


Dead weight

by we_are_just_bad_code



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, blood tw, weapons tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4599063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_just_bad_code/pseuds/we_are_just_bad_code
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the apocalypse hits, Shaw is ordered to protect the labs in Atlanta, but ends up on a small camp outside the city. After the camp gets overrun and Cole dies, Shaw finds herself alone, but not for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I've had this story in my mind for a while and decided to do something with it.  
> I apologize in advance for the errors, since English isn't my first language and this is the first time I'm writing something.  
> When this story starts Shaw doesn't know about the machine, she works for the ISA and still thinks the source of the numbers was Guantanamo. However Root already fights on the machine's side against Samaritan, along with Harold and John.

Shaw walked around the perimeter for the third time that day. It was only 8:00 am and everything was still quiet apart from the birds in the woods that sang loudly, much to Shaw’s annoyance. _It’s getting colder_ , she thought as a shiver run down her spine. The sky was as grey as the metal fence in front of her, there was a storm coming and Shaw didn’t really want to stay outside much longer. _But there’s work to do_ , she remembered herself, _someone has to keep the camp safe and do that supply run Cole has been talking about_.

Something hit the high fence behind her and Shaw turned around to see a young boy with half his face torn apart struggling against the metal, growling at her. She put her submachine gun down and took out one of her combat knives from her belt. She didn’t give the boy a second thought as she slid her black bladed knife into his skull, killing him for good. _I’ll have to burn him later, along with the ones from last night_ , Shaw thought. They were getting more visits from the dead than usual, what only meant more bodies to drag down the fields to burn and more time spent doing these annoying perimeter checks Shaw was stuck with. _They must be running out of food in the city_ , she concluded and didn’t dwell much on the thought of a horde approaching and killing them all. Instead she wiped her knife with a small washcloth she kept around, put it back on her belt and continued her walk around the fence, searching for any potential threats.

The sun was setting higher in the sky, muffled by grey, angry clouds. Walking past a window, Shaw noticed a few blood drops on her chest and quickly wiped them away, pausing for a moment to take a look at herself. Her dark brown eyes stared back at her, emotionless and dangerous. Her hair was tied up in a firm ponytail with a few rebellious brown strands falling at the sides of her face. Her flawless cheekbones and jawline were visible, in a soft but hard kind way and her body was comfortably hugged by a black tank top and black jeans. Some of her scars were noticeable on her reflex in the window, white and salient portions of skin that had been caused by varied weapons laid on tense and tough muscles. The last weeks had been rough but damn it, she looked great even 6 months deep in the apocalypse.

After the first outbreak, the ISA had been tasked with discovering the origin of the infection, in case it was a matter of national security. In the weeks following the disease’s first manifestations it had become clear that what they were facing was more destructive and threatening than any terrorist attack Cole and Shaw had ever prevented. Now and then, Shaw still caught herself wondering how the hell Research had not known about this, since they always seemed to know about everything going on American soil to the point where they could warn them about possible attacks before they even happened. Shaw had settled herself on thinking that the origin of the disease didn’t matter, what mattered was surviving this goddamn apocalypse until all the zombies were dead or some other nation helped them get rid of it. But 6 months had passed, for all she knew the disease had spread world widely and there was no cure or vaccine.

A week after New York fell and she was forced to move out of the city, along with some other ISA operatives, Control ordered them to protect the CDC’s headquarters in Atlanta, since the disease was being studied there and so there laid pretty much all the chances they had to find a vaccine. There were about 880 miles full of infected between them and Atlanta and Shaw had been pretty sure Control was sending them to their deaths. Be that as it may, a good agent always completes their mission and Shaw had always been a good agent, even when it meant crossing the country for a place that she knew would be gone when they got there.

And it had been gone. After weeks on the road, hungry and scared, half her team was dead and the half that was alive wished they weren’t when they saw the building they were supposed to protect burned to the ground. At the sound of their vehicles, the infected had started coming out of the shadows, running towards them. They barely had time to get away from the main roads when they saw a group of survivors being devoured. They managed to save most of the ones who hadn’t been bitten yet and decided that they should set up a camp outside of the city, where it was safer for the civilians.

The camp ended up being the small neighborhood Shaw now walked around on, checking for failures in the fences and barricades.

The storm seemed to be close now, so Shaw decided it was better to pile up the bodies from last night along with the boy she had just put down right away so she wouldn’t have to drag them through mud. After going inside the house she now shared with Cole to get her black hoodie and heading outside the fence, Shaw choose a spot to put the dead zombies and went to get the one further from her location.

She paid a lot of attention to every sound, making sure there was nothing else out there except herself. When she got to the zombie she was looking for, she searched his body and hummed pleasantly when she found a USP compact fully loaded concealed in the back of his pants.  
The sky roared loudly and Shaw took it as a sign to hurry up.

After dragging him and the rest of the zombies to her chosen place, Shaw felt the first drops of water hitting her face and determined it was time to head inside and replace Hersh on the watchtower they had built. However, before she could get to the fence she heard screams.

“Shaw? Shaw are you there?” Cole asked through their walkies, panic in his voice.

“Cole what the hell is going on?” she asked, adrenaline pumping in her veins as she run to the fence, submachine gun ready to fire.

“They’re too many,” she heard Hersh shout from the watchtower to no one in particular. And only then did she see what the civilians were screaming at. The opposite side of the fence had come down and zombies were stepping into camp. They were so many Shaw couldn’t see what was behind them. Shaw wasted no time watching and rushed inside but the sound of steps behind her made her turned around.

There, five infected run towards her and she cursed the rain for being so loud that she didn’t hear them coming sooner. She shot each of the undead in the head with precision, blowing up their brains.

“Cole, where are you?”she asked through her walkie. Her combat boots were starting to slide in the mud that now was beneath her feet due to the storm.

She has barely made it more than a couple of feet inside the camp before a wave of zombies cornered her in a side street. She shot the ones closer to her and run towards a window, breaking it and entering the house where Grice lived with Brooks.

“Shaw, they’re already inside the house. I’m not gonna make it, you have to go,” she heard Cole say and thought of him scared and alone and that only made her angrier than she already was.

Some of the zombies that had been pursuing her got inside the house and she moved to the door before deciding against it. The streets were full of infected and there was no way in hell she would get to Cole before she was bit. Even if she did get to him they would never make it out of here, not with hundreds of infected running to them, hungry for their flesh. She looked out of the windows in the living room and saw Grice running away with Brooks, saw the blonde girl get her arm torn apart by the teeth of the undead.

Rage flooded her as she turned around and noticed only three zombies had managed to get inside. She hid behind the sofa, waiting for them to walk past her, before stabbing them in the back of the head with her combat knife. Dark blood gushed out of their heads, soaking Shaw’s clothes.

“Shaw, go get your car, it has your weapons, it’s your best chance,” trembled Cole.

“I’m fucking surrounded, Cole,” Shaw whispered to her walkie, not wanting to attract the attention of the creatures that filled the streets.

“How far away are you? I will create a distraction.” Somewhere in the camp a fire had started, spreading quickly through the dry grass, but Shaw knew that wasn’t what Cole meant.

“I’m at Grice’s house,” she replied. She heard Cole’s quick “okay” and then her hands were clenching into fists as she saw him run down the street, yelling, until huge groups of infected surrounded him completely and he was stuck.

_Damn you Cole, you stupid self sacrificing idiot_ , she thought as she watched the zombies trying to feed of him. She lost no time in getting out of the house, though. She wasn’t going to waste Cole’s sacrifice and get killed by staying there watching. She found her car on a now almost empty side street. It seemed like most of the infected had run towards Cole, leaving her a clean escape route.

After driving past the camp’s fallen fences, she grabbed her walkie. “Always trying to be the hero huh?” she asked.

“No, just yours” Cole mumbled. Shaw clenched her jaw with anger at her partner’s confession and listened to the walkie that emitted Cole’s last breaths until she was left only with the sound of teeth tearing off wet flesh. Eventually, she drove further than the walkies range and heard only static.

  
***

  
She drives for a couple of hours absently, not exactly sure where to go. She wants to go back, search for Grice and Hersh, but she knows she can’t. It’s too risky, plus she knows they can take care of themselves. She tried to contact them but the batteries in her walkie had gone dead. So she keeps driving further.

Her grip on the steering wheel hasn’t flattered since she got away, her knuckles white from the force she’s using to grab it. She’s still mad about Cole, about his last words that sounded far too emotional. She had never had many friends, never had much use for them, but Cole was an exception and he deserved better. So when she passes by a service station and sees a infected woman wandering off in the road, she stops the car, gets out of it with her knife held tightly in her hand and stabs her far too many times than necessary, pulling out pieces of her skull.

Wiping her knife clean in the woman’s clothes, Shaw goes back to her car and looks at her surroundings. Her stomach growls and she remembers she hasn’t eaten for hours. She decides this is a good place as any to find the supplies she needs, since all she brought along were the guns and the change of clothes she kept in her car. The service station she parked by looks deserted, but Shaw walks around it just to make sure, considering what had happened to her camp just a few hours ago.

After confirming there are no undead around the store, Shaw moves inside, handgun held high as she clears the small corridors of any possible threats. There isn’t much left on the store, only a couple of candy bars, two bottles of water and several packs of gum scattered around the floor. Shaw sighs at the lack of real food and starts packing what she found on the floor in a black backpack she had in her car. _At least there’s peppermint gum_ , Shaw thought as she stared at several strawberry flavored packages of gum that laid on the counter with disgust.

Moving towards the pharmacy section of the store, she notices that all the decent meds are gone and there’s only penicillin left. Just in case she gets sick during the harsh winter that is approaching, Shaw takes the pills, along with some bandages and alcohol.

T _here has to be a storage room around here somewhere. Maybe there is some canned food still lef_ t, she supposes and starts heading to a door in the back of the store. She opens it carefully. It’s pitch black inside and Shaw doesn’t even have time to pull her flashlight out of her pocket before something throws itself at her. She holds her arm against the zombie’s throat so it can’t bite her and tries to push him away. However she fails and ends up falling with the zombie on top of her. The fall had thrown her gun away from her and the hand that held her knife was currently occupied trying to keep the zombie’s black, putrefied teeth away from her face. Her heart bet loudly but she remained perfectly calm, searching for something she could use. The ghost of a smile reached her lips as she spot the pointed edge of a metal pipe coming out of the wall on her left. Quickly, Shaw slammed the infected’s head on the sharp metal and felt his body relaxing (dying) above her.

_That was close_ , she thought, before getting up, straightening her hoodie, recovering her gun from the floor and finally turning on her flashlight and taking a look at the inside of the compartment she almost died for. At the sight of several untouched boxes of various snacks and canned foods, Shaw’s lips quirked up. She noticed a great deal of chocolate, cereal bars and chip bags and more importantly canned vegetables and meat. There were no signs of water bottles but she put that problem aside to be solved later. For now she settled herself on carrying all the boxes to her car and finding a place to stay the night.

While she carried the last box to the car she mentally thanked all the gods she didn’t believe in for that storage room, because starving wasn’t really the way she wanted to go. Putting the box on its place, Shaw stopped to contemplate her findings that would last her for, at least, three weeks.

The sun was high in the sky by now, so Shaw knew that it was already midday without checking her digital wristwatch. The sky still looked unhappy. It was probably going to rain again soon and Shaw didn’t really want to get wet or have to drive in such weather so she got ready to leave.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes in the air. Then another and another and another.

Shaw turns her head to the origin of the sound, but her view is blocked by the small store. She considers leaving whoever is stupid enough not to use a silencer in a world full of sound guided creatures there to be eaten but decides against it when she remembers Cole, dying alone. After all, she might be a heartless person but she’s not evil. Rapidly, she grabs her submachine gun from the passenger seat and runs to the store, stopping at its corner to see what’s happening. By now the shots have stopped, they must have run out of bullets.

A hundred yards away a woman runs in her direction, eight zombies following her. She looks behind her and ends up stumbling and falling. One of zombies sinks to the ground and grabs one of the woman’s foot, she kicks him in the nose and manages to get back on her feet. In the meantime, Shaw runs towards the woman and when she gets close enough she starts distributing bullets to the infected’s skulls. They all drop and the woman turns around to face Shaw. Her brown curls are messy from running and her cheeks are colored in a soft shade of pink from the effort.

“Thank you,” the brown haired, tall woman breathes out. Shaw doesn’t put her gun down, paying attention to the 9.mm handgun in the woman’s hand. She feels the other woman’s eyes on her face studying her curiously, recognition sparking softly on her features.

Above them the sky flashes and Shaw just wants to get this over with and send the woman on her way. But there’s something about her that seems uncommon. She takes a better look at her, takes in her leather jacket, her white shirt and her tight jeans. Observes the way the woman’s lips curl up in a perky smile when their eyes meet and she’s done staring. In other circumstances Shaw would have found her attractive. But here she was, in the middle of nowhere with a gun pointed at the woman’s head.

“Drop it,” Shaw says, motioning to the woman’s gun. She smiles and proceeds to show the gun’s magazine is empty, just like the chamber. Shaw relaxes and puts her gun down.

Suddenly the woman reaches for something in her pocket and Shaw only notices what it is when it’s too late. Too metal pins are shot to her chest and she sinks to the ground. The woman hovers above her, watching her convulse as electricity runs through her body.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Sameen,” The woman whispered in her ear “We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

“Who the hell are you?” Shaw manages to get out before the woman stabs her neck with a needle.

“You can call me Root”


	2. Chapter 2

She blinked at the white brightness that invaded her eyes as soon as she opened them, trying to make sense of where she was. Her head pounded, sharp and heavy, like she had been hit with a hammer. She felt nausea creeping up through her body and firmly shut her eyes, trying to avoid throwing up. Shaw focused on controlling her breathing, taking in air and expelling it from her lungs at a regular rate.

A few moments passed and when Shaw felt strong enough to open her eyes again, she perceived the sun was almost setting, what meant she had been out for hours. Gradually, she took in her surroundings, noticing she was tied to the steering wheel of her car with tightly tied zip ties. She felt someone stir beside her and turned her head to find the woman she’d saved before, smiling faintly at her.

“Sorry about that,” The woman – Root, her name was Root – said, frowning slightly.

“Which part? The tasing, the drugging or whatever this is?” Shaw asked, skepticism overflowing her voice as she looked at the zip ties that immobilized her wrists.

“I had to make sure you’d hear me out. She needs our help and I figured you wouldn’t come willingly,” Root explained, the slight frown never leaving her features.

“She?” Shaw inquired with disbelief. She couldn’t think of anyone who’d need her help, _everyone I knew is probably already dead_ , she thought.

“The Machine,” Root clarified. Upon seeing Shaw’s confused gaze, she continued, “In your old job, you probably referred to Her as Research.”

Then, Root proceeded to explain how Research wasn’t a group of people like she believe it to be, but actually an AI, built and designed by Harold Finch for a secret operation within the U.S government, known by the project name "Northern Lights". Root kept on informing her that the numbers she and her partner received were given by the Machine, since her purpose was analyzing data in order to predict terrorist attacks.

_If that damn machine is as good as it seems, then why the hell didn’t she see this coming?_ , Shaw wondered, thinking of the flesh eating creatures that now roamed the roads. Nonetheless, she kept listening to Root, fighting against the urge to cut in and tell her she was full of crap. She kept listening until Root was done talking about how the Machine classified data in Relevant and Irrelevant, about how She had chosen Root to be her Analog Interface and about how in the months before the apocalypse started a new AI had been born. Apparently, this new machine – Samaritan, Root had called it – wanted to reshape the world, so its human agents had created the disease to reveal the strongest people, the ones who deserved to live in a better world, but it had gone out of control.

“And where do I come in, in all of this?” Shaw asked, after Root had finished and she had time to take in the waves of information.

“Well, before the power and communications went out, She told me to find you, along with Finch and his lapdog, Reese, and head to a facility in the west where She’s hidden” Root stated as if it was obvious. “Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to tell me what to do when I got there but I’m sure we’ll work something out,” she added, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Why the hell should I go with you?” Shaw asked, her expression stoic and unreadable. “Why should I believe in anything you say?”

Shaw had to give it to her, everything she said made sense and was extremely logical but there was something that felt out of place.

“Because, Sameen, you spent years working for the Machine and she was never wrong. You’ve witnessed her power firsthand without even knowing it and by now you’ve probably realized that an all seeing god like Her must know how to create a vaccine for the infection,” Root said, exasperation clear in her voice. “Plus, if we don’t get to Her soon, Samaritan might find Her first. That would mean She’d get destroyed and the world will never be what it once was,” Root added.

Above them, a thunder broke out of the sky, announcing the rain that was to come. The wind was blowing strongly and Shaw knew they had to move out of there and find shelter or they’d be stuck in the middle of the storm, vulnerable to an attack.

Shaw considered her options. She could stay here, try to escape and throw the woman out of the car, leaving her for the dead. Or she could accept the mission she gave her, find Finch and Reese and the Machine, try to stop Samaritan and more importantly, get the hell out of that road. She deduced the first option wouldn’t play out too well due to her lack of weapons and the tightness of the zip ties. The second option, however, left her to spend a lot of time with this woman, who she already knew to be able to annoy the hell out of her.

_Well, fuck it_ , she thought, it does sound kind of fun.

“Untie me, Root,” Shaw ordered, looking Root in the eyes, her head already focused on getting them out of there.

“Does that mean you accept my offer?” Root asked, the corners of her mouth rising hopefully.

“Yes, I accept the mission. Now untie me before we’re surrounded by infected in the middle of a storm,” Shaw demanded.

Root brought a knife to the zip ties and as soon as her hands were free, Shaw took it from her and held it against her throat, flames igniting in her eyes.

“If you ever betray me,” Shaw whispered, pressing the knife harder against Root’s throat, drawing blood, “I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

“I’m sure you will, Sameen,” Root said when Shaw let her go, her finger running over the cut in her skin, “But I think you have other things to worry about, at the moment,” she finished, her eyes fixated on the grey sky.

Rain had started falling around them, large drops of water blurring the windows and making it hard to see.

“Your weapons are in the back seat,” Root announced with a self-satisfied smirk, “Along with everything you had there.”

Shaw turned around to pick up some of her knives, putting them in her belt and boots, as well as the USP compact she had picked out of that zombie in the morning.

“We need to find a place to stay the night,” stated Shaw, as she started the car, “There is only an hour of sunlight left and I don’t want to look for shelter in the dark.”

They drove quietly, both looking out of the window, searching for a place they could stay. The sky’s teardrops hit the car’s windows, creating a background noise that made the awkward silence more bearable. Outside, the road was surrounded by big yellow plantation fields that ended in a wall of tall trees. Sometimes, Shaw caught Root glancing at her, studying her, opening her mouth and then closing it, as if she was wondering whether she should say something or not. Eventually, she broke the silence.

“Thank you for coming, Sameen,” she said, her usual confidence not present in her voice.

Shaw rolled her eyes at the sincerity of her words. “It’s not like I had somewhere else to be,” she replied, annoyance written all over her face. If Root was going to start being all sentimental on her, she was sure she’d leave her right there on that road.

“So, where are Finch and Reese, exactly?” Shaw asked, wanting to find out more about their mission.

At the question, Root’s eyes lighted up again and her usual smile found its way back onto her lips. “When the Machine last talked to me, they seemed to be held up in some abandoned building outside New York City,” she smirked.

_NYC_ , Shaw thought with a scoff, _I’ve came all the way down here just to come back?_

“How long ago was that? How do you even know they’re still alive?” she asked, incredulity glowing in her voice.

“I have faith in the Machine, Shaw, and so should you. If She told me they’ll be there, they’ll be there,” Root replied, sure of herself, “Besides, I did find you,” she said, tilting her head and smiling brightly at Shaw.

“You would have died if I hadn’t been there,” Shaw growled.

By now, there was barely any sunlight left and the rain had come to a stop. Shaw spotted a farm up ahead and decided to stop there. She handed Root one of her knives and a gun, rolling her eyes at her request to have another one, and motioned for her to follow her into the farmhouse.

Pulling of the safety off her gun, Shaw kicked the door open, steeping inside warily. She took out her flashlight and whispered to Root to check the top floor while she made sure the ground floor was clear.

Shaw went through the house, checking the kitchen and the living room without making a sound. While moving towards the back of the house Shaw heard a loud thud coming from the top floor but chose to ignore it, continuing her sweep. When she got closer to the back door, Shaw started hearing groans. Her hands held her combat knife more firmly, getting ready for an attack. Slowly, she kept walking to the origin of the sounds. When the infected jumped out of the shadows and started running towards her, following the light of her small flashlight, she was ready. Shaw held the creature by his neck and put a knife in his skull, dropping him on the ground.

Shaw turned off her flashlight and looked up, “All clear down here,” she said, loud enough for Root to hear but low enough not to attract any unwanted attention from the undead that she was sure to be roaming around the fields of the farmhouse.

“Everything good here, as well,” Root said, emerging from the top of the stairs, dragging the body of a woman behind her.

Root laid the infected she had killed next to Shaw’s and handed her knife back to her.

“Well this is nice,” Root spoke, looking pleased with their killings, “taking down zombies together and all.”

“We should barricade the doors and cover the windows,” Shaw told Root, ignoring her comment with an irritated frown on her face.

In the weak light of the dusk, Shaw could make out an old green couch resting against the wall, facing a small coffee table that laid on a worn out grey carpet in front of an ancient TV. Whoever lived here had worse taste than me, she thought, looking at the awful flower paintings that were disposed on the walls, over a peeled off wallpaper.

“Wait, Sameen,” Root whispered, grabbing her arm and forcing her to turn around when she started moving towards the ugly couch, “it seems like you’ve got some blood on you” Root said, wiping away a few drops of blood on Shaw’s cheek and smiling at murderous gaze she was met with.

Shaw yanked her arm away from the other woman’s grasp and pushed the couch against the front door. _Besides being over-confident and annoying as hell, she’s also flirty. Great_ , she thought sarcastically, shaking her head, as she moved the coffee table aside so she could nail the carpet to the big window that stood behind the TV.

“Root, be useful. Go get us some food from the car. Also, bring my black backpack and search for some nails. Duct tape will do too,” Shaw ordered when she saw the other woman just standing there, observing her work with a faint smile on her lips. “We need to cover up the windows so they don’t see the light” she finished with a sigh.

That got Root moving and when she came back with a roll of grey duct tape and their dinner, she helped Shaw barricade the back door and cover the windows.

After making sure the house was secure, Shaw allowed herself to relax and lighted a small oil lamp Root had found previously. It was around 8 pm by now and she was tired. Just twelve hours ago her camp had gone to nothing, Cole had died and she had been drugged by this crazy, flirty, extremely attractive woman. However, she was more hungry than tired, so she threw herself in the couch and snatched one of the cans of food Root had brought from the car from the coffee table. Sausages? Really? Shaw thought when she read the can’s label.

“I brought you chocolate too,” Root said, handing Shaw a bar of Mars as she sat down extremely close to her.

They ate in silence. Shaw focused on her food, devouring it, and Root watching her eat with an amused glance.

“Have you never seen someone eat, Root?” Shaw snapped, when Root’s gaze became utterly irritating.

Shaw finished her can of sausages and set it on the floor, taking off the wrap of her chocolate bar.

“Not like you do, sweetie,” Root purred in her ear, smirking at her when she clenched her jaw and rolled her eyes.

Shaw took a bite off her chocolate and turned to Root, “So, how long have you known Finch and Reese?”

Root sighed with disbelief, because of course Shaw would want to know about the mission. “A couple of years. We tried to stop Samaritan together but it was too late,” she replied.

Shaw hummed at that and got up to search for a blanket. When she found one and returned to the living room, she harshly informed Root that the couch was hers and proceeded to take off her pants.

The lack of clothes revealed Shaw’s defined muscles and Root had to bite her lip when her gaze reached the other woman’s torso as she started taking off her tank top, eyes locked on Root’s. In the dim light of the oil lamp, Root observed Shaw’s scars, thin white lines that marked her skin like her body was a canvas, waiting to be colored; like she was a work of art.

“See something you like?” Shaw asked smugly, feeling Root’s eyes running over her body.

Not being one to back down from a challenge, Root opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Shaw started dressing herself again. Root swallowed and looked away as Shaw finished changing clothes and put the dirty ones into her black bag. Shaw smiled victoriously, before killing the lamp and going to sleep.

***

When Shaw wakes up, the birds are already singing carelessly in the fields. Her wristwatch tells her its 8:21 am. She stands up and looks at Root, sleeping on the floor. Last night she had been awoken several times by Root’s heavy breathing and silent muttering. Eventually, she had woke her up from whatever horror she was living with inside her head and told her to be quiet. She suspects the other woman hasn’t rested much since then so she lets her sleep while she puts on her hoodie and ties her hair in its usual ponytail.

Once she is done, she looks down on Root. Her face is covered by messy brown curls and her hands are hidden away beneath her leather jacket that serves as a pillow. Shaw nudges her shoulder with her foot.

“It’s time to go,” she says, once Root’s eyes are open.

“I love it when you’re bossy,” she whispers as she gets up, smiling at Shaw’s annoyed expression.

After waiting for Root to get ready to move out, Shaw takes off a bit of tape that holds the carpet against the main window and peeks outside.

“Shit,” she mutters as her eyes rush over about two dozens of infected that stood outside, walking absently, oblivious to their presence.

Root moves closer to Shaw and takes a look at what she was referring to. She thinks about suggesting waiting until the undead move past the house but decides against it. They’re hundreds of miles away from Harold and John. The longer they wait, the chance of something happening to them increases. _And I’m sure Shaw would go crazy if she had to stay here doing nothing with me_ , she adds in her mind, smiling.

“We’ll go out through the backdoor. After that, follow my lead,” Shaw commands.

“May I have a second gun now?” Root asks, pouting slightly.

“Two guns at once? That’s kinda lame.”

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes.

The pout on Root’s face immediately leaves her features, being replaced by her usual perky smile as Shaw hands her her back up piece.

“Don’t shoot too much, only when you really need to,” Shaw orders, shaking her head at the other woman’s constant smile, “We don’t really have that much ammo to spare.”

Shaw takes the lead and gets out of the house, stopping when she reaches the end of the wall. She peeks around the corner and notices that there are three infected in this side of the house. Not wanting to check the other side, knowing it will probably be worse there, Shaw signals for Root to follow and runs towards the closer zombie. Hearing Root and Shaw’s feet hit the ground, the three infected turn their heads to them and start walking in their direction, growling at them. Shaw gets to the first zombie and stabs his skull with ease, letting Root shoot the other two. Root’s two shots reach their mark. Shaw is impressed. _She really knows what shes’ doing_ , Shaw thinks, allowing the smallest of smirks to slide on her lips.

Following the sound of the gunshots, more of the undead appear from the corner of the house, running towards them. Shaw quickly puts down two of them and starts running to the car, motioning for Root to do the same. Together, they shoot and stab their way through the crowd of infected until they reach Shaw’s car.

They manage to get in, breathing heavily. Adrenaline is pumping in their veins as they drive away and Shaw has to admit, being with Root isn’t that bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

They had been driving for a while. Their breaths had evened out by now and they were finally reaching the interstate highway they had been looking for. Shaw decided this was a good place to stop and take a better look at the map that was sitting on Root’s lap.

The weather was better than it had been the previous day. There were no signs of grey clouds in the sky and the sun was out, shinning like it had been the week before. The sunbeams hit Shaw’s skin pleasantly through her car’s dirty windows as she drove it to a stop. As she got out of the car, Shaw breathed deeply, feeling the fresh air fill her lungs, making it seem like everything was okay.

“Get out,” Shaw said to Root, snatching the map from her hands.

She walked to the front of the car and laid the map on vehicle’s hood, waiting for Root to join her.

“We’re here,” Root stated, pointing at an area west of Atlanta, “And we need to go there,” she continued, tracing a road northeast of the city with her finger.

“Yeah, but we can’t go through the city,” Shaw sighed, “The streets are packed with infected. We’ll have to go around,” she added, annoyed with the fact that they’d have to waste more time.

“We also have a little problem to solve, sweetie,” Root whispered at Shaw’s ear, while she stroked her shoulders, “There’s barely any water left,” she finished with a smile.

Shaw’s fists clenched at the pet name and she had to stop herself from hitting the other woman for the flirting and touching.

“This highway seems to cross a river up ahead,” Shaw said bluntly as she pushed Root away, putting some distance between them.

_She’s hot, but this isn’t happening_ , Shaw thought, seeing the other woman pout lightly at the lack of contact.

Once they were both in the car, Shaw drove rapidly, burning down Root’s attempts at a conversation with annoyed huffs and scoffs.

Shaw wasn’t a fan of small talk, that much was clear. Root was starting to think she wasn’t a fan of talking at all. _Or maybe it’s just me_ , she thought, smiling at the idea that she was able to make Shaw uncomfortable.

Root looked out of the window, observing the way the trees grew up at both sides of the highway, far enough from each other to let her see what was behind them. Sometimes she caught glimpses of small houses and abandoned establishments, other times she saw human figures, walking without a course.

Her eyes drifted to Shaw and her mind rushed over the events of the previous day, taking her back to the moment where Shaw took off her clothes. Her smile grew wider.

“What are you smiling at?” Shaw snapped, the loose strands of her hair moving over her face as she turned her head to Root suddenly.

Root raised her hand to move Shaw’s hair aside, back where it belonged, but was stopped by a firm grasp on her wrist. Shaw looked her in the eyes with a ferocious gaze. Her dark brown eyes reminded Root of wildfires, burning fiercely, never to be extinguished; and Root looked at them for as long as she could, trying to save those wild and feral orbs in her memory.

“It seems like we’ve arrived at our destination,” Root breathed out after a few intense moments of staring in each other’s eyes.

Apparently, Shaw had stopped the car without noticing and they were now standing above the river. She quickly got out of the car, taking her USP compact with her, along with her black backpack that contained her dirty clothes, water bottle and snacks.

Root was quick to follow and soon they were hopping over the highway’s security barrier and entering the tree line that rose on the riverside. They walked through the trees quietly with their weapons held high, alert for any threat. Shaw spotted a zombie a few feet away and nodded to Root, making sure she saw it too. She hid behind a tree, while Root walked a bit to her left, and waited for her to attract the infected. Root whistled softly and the zombie turned to her, starting to walk in her direction, growling. Shaw took out her knife from her belt and waited until the infected had walked past the tree she was hidden behind. When the zombie’s gross fingernails were almost reaching Root, Shaw stabbed him in the back of his skull, making him fall on the leaves that covered the ground's dirt. She gave Root a little appreciative grin. She could be annoying as fuck but they made a hell of a team together.

Shaw quickly checked the dead guy’s pockets and hummed pleasantly when she found a pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking’s bad for your health, Sameen,” Root teased.

“I don’t smoke, Root,” Shaw said, “But this might be useful,” she noted, taking out a blue lighter of the cigarettes’ pack and putting it in her jeans pocket.

Root and Shaw walked to the riverside following the sounds of running water. A soon as they got there, Root practically ran to the river to fill her bottle with water, wishing to kill the thirst that had been consuming her for the last hour. However, when she saw the turbid brownish water that filled her bottle her relieved expression shifted.

“We can’t drink this,” Root stated with a worried frown.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Shaw muttered.

_We need some sort of filter to get the dirt particles out of it_ , she thought as remembered her training as a marine.

“I have an idea,” Shaw spoke, causing Root’s face to light up. “Watch the tree line while I see if it works.”

Shaw took out her dirty tank top from her bag and covered her bottle’s bottleneck with it. Then she proceeded to put it under water, facing the river’s current. When she brought it out, it was filled with clear transparent water.

“Give me your bottle, Root” Shaw commanded and repeated what she had done.

“I knew She was right when She chose you,” Root said with a smile as she took her water bottle from Shaw’s hand. “So is it safe to drink now?”

“We don’t have anything to boil it in and last time I checked we also didn’t have any iodine. This is the best we can do,” Shaw responded, taking a sip from her bottle.

It was about 10:00 am now and they still hadn’t eaten anything since last night, as they had been busy escaping from the undead at the farmhouse and finding that river. Shaw threw one of the cereal bars she had in her bag at Root and sat down next to her.

They ate calmly, both observing the trees, making sure they were safe. When they finished, Shaw refilled the water bottles using the same method as before, muttering something about the bacteria that could be in the water. Once she was done, Root got up and offered her hand to Shaw, who rolled her eyes and got up on her own, starting to walk to the car.

They both got in and Shaw drove away. The car was silent except for the times when Root told Shaw where to turn, her eyes fixated on the map. Shaw didn’t mind the silence, though. It was different from the other day’s stillness; it was more intimate, more comfortable. It gave her time to think.

Six months ago, Root wouldn’t have minded the serene silence either. She would have probably enjoyed it. However, those six months she had spent alone had done a number on her. Every time she closed her eyes she saw hordes of infected, she saw Harold being torn apart by black teeth because she wasn’t there to protect him. Root knew that those thoughts were irrational, that John was perfectly capable of protecting her friend, but she still couldn’t stop her mind from drifting to them.

At night, that was all she could think about. She would toss and turn and still wouldn’t be able to sleep, unable to take the images of her friends being eaten out of her head. When she did manage to fall asleep, nightmares would hunt her and she would wake up in pools of cold sweat and tears.

As much as she didn’t want to, she had to admit that if Shaw hadn’t found her she would probably be dead by now. Without the Machine whispering reassurances in her ear, Root had started to lose hope she would ever find the other woman.

_But I did find her_ , Root thought with a little smile, trying to focus on that and not on the dreadful thoughts that usually came to her mind. She glanced at Shaw, making sure she was real.

Shaw’s gaze was directed at the road, although Root was pretty sure she was aware of her staring.

“What do you want, Root?” she asked, never taking her eyes of the highway. Root just smiled.

***

Two hours pass and Root is finally starting to relax in her seat. They had managed to go around the city, talking extra turns on side roads in order to avoid the highways that were blocked by the cars of people who didn’t get out of the city fast enough. Now they are back on a highway, driving in the middle of what seem to be endless woods.

The map Root is holding shows a crossroad up ahead and she quickly instructs Shaw to keep driving in the same direction.

_What the hell?_ Shaw thinks as she spots a man at the end of the road, waving at them. He appears to have dark short hair and be wearing a ripped shirt. His left hand is holding his right shoulder like he is hurt, but Shaw has seen enough injured people to know he is faking it.

“Don’t stop,” Root orders, her teeth biting her bottom lip worriedly.

Shaw nods and starts driving faster in the direction of the guy. They barely hear his shout for help before running him over. His body hits the front window with a loud thump, cracking it in the corner. Damn hunters, Shaw thinks. She has already encountered these guys once. They set up traps like these, forcing people to stop and help. Then they kill them and take all their stuff. Word was they got the nickname “hunters” for hunting down people when they ran away and eating them.

“Whoever he was, he has friends around. We need to get out of here,” Shaw says, pressing her foot even harder on the acceleration pedal.

They should go back. They should turn around and avoid the kill zone, but they can’t spare the fuel that would take to do that. Root hands Shaw her submachine gun and opens her window, getting ready to fire at whoever comes at them. However, she isn’t ready to fight the red cargo truck that hits them, coming from the trees.

Everything is still for a while. When she opens her eyes there is too much brightness and a white powder floats in the air, making it hard to see. She turns her head to Shaw slowly. She is yelling something at her but she can’t hear what she’s saying. Root brings her hand to her head and feels her hair soaked in what must be blood.

“Root, let’s go,” Shaw yells, tugging at her arm. Apparently, the steering wheel’s airbag had softened the impact for her and she is fine, except for a few cuts on her arms that are probably caused by the broken glass.

They manage to get out of the car, taking Shaw’s backpack and guns with them. When Root hears shots, everything is still a bit blurry but she does her best to fire back.

Shaw seems to be handling the situation much better. Her shots hit their mark and soon five of the guys that were firing at them are lying on the black asphalt. However, more men come out of the woods, making it hard for Root and Shaw to keep their position.

Hiding behind the car, they take turns at shooting the hunters. Shaw holds her submachine gun close and gets up, trying to get a look at what they’re facing. There are at least fifteen men hiding in the trees and the undead are starting to show up, attracted by the noise. Their car is ruined; there is no way they can handle both the hunters and the infected. At least, not in Root’s state. Her head wound looks like it needs stitches and the woman’s shots are failing most of its targets. Shaw ducks behind the car again, letting Root take her position.

Gunfire echoes in the air and Shaw turns around to protect their rear. There are a few infected crossing the highway’s opposite tracks, walking towards them.

“We gotta move,” Shaw says to Root.

“All our supplies are in the car, Shaw. We can’t just leave,” Root remarks.

Shaw knows that by now Root’s guns are almost out of bullets, so she gathers some food and medical supplies as fast as she can before telling Root to run to the trees behind them.

“That’s gonna be a problem, Sameen,” Root says when she ducks next to Shaw.

Shaw’s eyes run over her, trying to understand what she’s talking about. She notices the other woman’s left hand is pressed tightly against her side. Blood is flowing freely between Root’s fingers and her face is starting to lose color.

_Shit._

“Can you walk?” Shaw asks, hooking Root’s arm on her shoulders.

“I think I can manage,” Root breathes out.

Tiny drops of sweat start rolling down her forehead and Shaw knows they have to find a place to treat the wound or Root isn’t going to make it. Shaw takes down a couple of infected in front of them and tries to put some bullets in the guys that are still shooting at them.

She doesn’t know how, but they’re able to reach the trees. By now, she’s practically carrying Root through the woods. She can feel the woman’s body getting heavier and between helping her and killing the infected that come across them, Shaw has a hard time finding somewhere they can hide.

Root can hear voices behind them and knows it won’t be long until the hunters catch up to them.

“You have to leave me, Sameen,” Root whispers in Shaw’s ear.

“Shut up, Root.”

“I’m slowing you down. You’ll have to find Harold and John on your own,” she insists. With each step, Root feels the air rushing out of her lungs. The burning pain on her side is causing her vision to blur and all she wants is to make sure Shaw will complete the mission, even if she has to do it without her.

Shaw considers leaving her, for a moment. She doesn’t owe her anything. She could just leave her here to die and move on; find something else to keep her occupied other than this mission.

“I don’t leave people behind,” Shaw ends up saying, not knowing exactly why. She tells herself Root’s an essential part of the mission, that it won’t work without her. _And it has to work_ , Shaw reminds herself, _‘cause if it doesn’t everything’s lost_.

A zombie moves to them on their right and Shaw quickly drops Root to put a knife in its skull. When she picks her up again, she notices a small wooden cabin, hiding between the trees. She urges Root to walk faster.

Shaw leaves her leaning against the cabin’s wall while she makes sure there aren’t infected indoors. Everything is clear, so she takes Root inside and sits her on a small couch.

“Keep pressure on the wound,” Shaw orders, pressing Root’s hand firmly against it. Root hisses in pain for the first time. In a normal situation, Shaw would admire the woman’s high pain tolerance; instead she’s focused on not letting her bleed out.

Shaw reloads the gun Root still had on her right hand and hands it to her, making her way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Root asks, her voice breaking slightly due to her labored breathing.

“Hunting,” Shaw replies, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

As she’s leaving the cabin, submachine gun ready to fire, Shaw catches herself hoping the hunters don’t find Root. She shakes her head, trying not to think about why she’s worried they may find her in the first place.

***

By the time Shaw comes back, Root’s wounds have already stopped bleeding. She tries to think about how much time has passed since Shaw left, but finds that the pain of her gunshot wound makes it difficult to have notion of time.

Root takes in Shaw’s state in the afternoon’s light that infiltrates the small cabin. Her hair is messier than ever. Its brown strands are either falling carelessly on her shoulders or appear to be glued to her face by a slick layer of sweat that shines with the sunlight. She has a small cut above her eyebrow and her neck and cheeks are sprayed with blood that Root’s sure doesn’t belong to her.

Her clothes look like they’re stained with the same dark and thick liquid. Root’s eyes run over Shaw’s hands. Her knuckles are bruised to the point where the skin is peeling off and her fingers are covered in dried blood.

Shaw’s chest falls and rises at a regular pace. She looks like a wolf that’s come back from a hunt and Root has never seen anything so beautiful.

Shaw walks towards Root with her gun pointed at her and presses her fingers against Root’s neck. When she feels a weak but steady pulse beneath the woman’s skin, she lowers the weapon.

“Relax, sweetie. I’m not dead yet,” Root whispers. Her throat is dry, causing her voice to come out crooked.

“Don’t talk, Root,” Shaw orders, as she lifts her shirt to take a look at the wound. “The bleeding has stopped. I can see the bullet clearly so there’s probably no organ damage.”

Shaw washes the blood away from her hands with water and proceeds to take out a white bottle of her bag. She lets a transparent liquid that Root suspects to be rubbing alcohol run through her hands. Shaw sterilizes a small pair of tweezers and begins to clean the wound with some water. Root bites her lip at the feeling of the fresh liquid hitting her flesh.

While Shaw works, Root focuses on the woman’s hands, amused by the fact that they’re so gentle when minutes ago they were causing so much destruction.

Shaw manages to get the bullet out, stitch the wound and disinfect it with the alcohol, before bandaging it. She doesn’t comment on Root’s hisses when she touches her, knowing how painful it is to take out a bullet without any anesthesia or painkillers.

She moves Root’s head to side so she can see the cut from the car crash.

“This also needs stitches,” Shaw informs. Root nods. She had almost forgotten about the gash in her scalp.

After stitching it up and making sure it wouldn’t get infected, Shaw starts taking care of her own cuts. Her hands move precisely and Root watches her work, her eyes following Shaw’s every move.

“Stop staring and get to sleep, Root,” she says, never taking her eyes off the piece of glass she’s pulling out of her arm. “I’ll keep watch,” she assures with annoyance in her voice but not on her features.

Root opens her mouth, ready to give her some witty comeback but notices how tired she is. In the small couch with Shaw sitting next to her, Root feels safer than she’s ever felt since the apocalypse started. Her eyelids start getting heavy and she ends up falling asleep, regardless of the pain she’s in.

It is the first time in months Root doesn’t have nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

When Root wakes up, the sun has already disappeared, leaving the small cabin to be illuminated by the moonlight. As her eyes get adjusted to the dim lighting, she notices Shaw standing by the door. Her face and chest are no longer covered by blood and her hair is not the mess it was when Root went to sleep, being now tied in its usual ponytail.

Root opens her mouth to speak but closes it when she notices how raw her throat is. Only then does she remember what happened with the hunters. Her hand rushes to her side and she clenches her jaw when she touches the gunshot wound a bit too hard. She closes her eyes for a while, waiting for the stabbing felling to go away. When she opens them again, the pain is reduced to what Root could only describe as great discomfort, a constant but not so painful ache.

Her head is throbbing and her back is sore from sleeping in the awful couch at an odd angle, but Root tries to get up anyway.

Noticing she is awake, Shaw’s head turns to her.

“Here, have some water,” she says, throwing Root’s water bottle at her. She barely catches it and ends up falling on the couch.

“How long was I asleep?” Root asks, after sipping the water.

“For about five hours,” Shaw replies, moving to sit next to her.

Shaw lifts Root’s shirt to examine the wound. “You should change the dressing every 72 hours,” she states, tilting her head, her concentrated gaze slipping into her eyes, just like it had five hours ago when she patched up Root.

“I love it when you play doctor,” Root comments, smiling down at her.

Shaw harshly pulls Root’s shirt down and moves away from her with a scoff, rolling her eyes. _How can she be like this when she just woke up, after getting shot?_ Shaw thinks, eyeing the other woman skeptically.

Shaw searches for something in her backpack and throws it on Root’s lap. “You should eat,” she says.

Root contemplates the can that fell ungraciously on her thighs. _Long term food storage_ , Root reads, _beef_. “This looks disgusting,” she sighs, as she takes the knife Shaw’s handing her to open the can.

Shaw lets her eat in peace, enjoying immensely the way Root frowns each time she swallows a square of the awful beef. Shaw waits until she looks like she can’t eat more, to ask the question that has been on her mind since she took care of Root’s wounds.

“How did you know it was a trap?”

“What?” Root asks, her eyes avoiding Shaw’s. She finds particular interest on Shaw’s knife and runs her fingers along its blade.

“You know what I’m talking about, Root,” Shaw says, taking her knife back. “In the highway, when that guy showed up. You told me not to stop. How did you know?” she finishes, eyeing Root suspiciously.

“Let’s just say I had a little encounter with those guys once,” Root murmurs, her voice shaking so slightly most people would have missed the frail insecurity that lingered in it.

“They hurt you?” Shaw asks, her voice low and her expression unreadable.

As Shaw sees Root’s teeth leaving her bottom lip and her mouth curving into a relaxed smile, she knows she shouldn’t have asked.

“Careful, Sameen, or I might think you care,” Root grins, her usual playfulness returning to her voice.

Shaw scoffs and mutters an almost silent “Whatever,” before leaning back in the couch. She doesn’t even know why she asked in the first place. It’s not like she cares about Root. She’s incapable of caring, at least that’s what she tells herself. But then she remembers the weird sensation in her chest she felt when she was leaving the cabin, when she thought about Root being killed by the hunters. Although she refuses to admit it, even to herself, Root is starting to grow on her.

“Oh, come on, sweetie,” Root smirks, nudging Shaw’s shoulder gently, “Don’t be so grumpy.”

A couple of minutes pass by with Shaw ignoring Root’s invasions of her personal space until she speaks again, “To answer your question, no, they didn’t touch me” she says with a neutral expression. “I killed them before they could do anything to me.”

_Good_ , Shaw catches herself thinking. She knows what those guys did with pretty girls like Root and told herself she wouldn’t like her travel companion - or whatever Root is - to have some sort of trauma she’d have to deal with.

“If you’re good enough to walk, we should go,” Shaw says, getting up from the couch.

“In the middle of the night? Are you sure that’s wise, Sameen?” Root inquires, raising her eyebrows at Shaw with awe.

Usually, Shaw would wait until morning to move out, but the thought of staying in the cabin for nine hours not doing anything productive really frustrated her.

“You still have the map with you?” she asks.

Root empties her jacket’s pockets, taking out her taser, a syringe and a couple of vials.

“I’m afraid I left it in the car,” Root replies, frowning slightly.

“Well, there was a car repair shop a mile away from here,” Shaw states, moving towards the back of the cabin, “Seems like a good place to find another vehicle. This time we might even get something fast.”

Root smiles at Shaw’s hidden enthusiasm and tries to get up from the couch, her left hand moving to her wound instinctively. Shaw notices the difficulty she has in getting up, but doesn’t help her, picking up something from the floor instead. When Root looks stable on her feet, Shaw hands her something heavy that Root can’t identify due to the weak lighting.

“Took it from one of the hunters,” Shaw explains, running her fingers on the object’s steel before letting it go. “You should have something to defend yourself other than your guns.”

Root walks to the window so she can see better what she suspects to be a melee weapon. When she gets there, the pale moonlight hits the weapon’s blade, causing it to sparkle slightly. It’s a brand new black bladed machete and Root’s surprised Shaw didn’t want it for herself. Its handle fits Root’s palm perfectly and she admires the serrated blade on the weapon’s upper edge as she runs her fingers on it gently. On the opposite edge of the machete, a plain sharp white blade turns the cold steel weapon into a perfect zombie killer.

“It’s pretty,” Root whispers, stunned with the fact that Shaw gave her something that meaningful.

“Yeah, so don’t lose it,” Shaw says with a smile playing on her voice but not on her lips.

“I’d never lose your gift, sweetie,” Root teases, smiling brightly at Shaw as she sets the machete on her belt. She wouldn’t go as far as calling it trust, but Root knows         that the fact Shaw chose to share her killing’s trophy held something close to reliance. Her smile widens when Shaw shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“Let’s go,” Shaw says, pushing past Root and walking out the door.

They move slowly through the trees. Shaw’s steps are almost inaudible, unlike Root’s heavy ones. They both hold their weapons closely, being ready to kill whoever comes across them.

The longer they walk, the harder it becomes for Root to ignore the lacerating pain that travels her side. “Wait a second,” she breathes out, touching Shaw’s arm softly.

Shaw had already been expecting the request for a while, since she had noticed Root’s labored breathing in the last couple of minutes. She doesn’t answer her though, not wanting to attract the attention of the undead. Instead Shaw stands patiently by Root’s side, looking out for any potential threat while the other woman rests.

Root breathes deeply, trying to push aside the pain that’s making this walk so difficult. When she feels her heart beet slowing down, she tells Shaw she’s good to go. She doesn’t offer Root any help and Root doesn’t ask for it either.

They reach the end of the woods ten minutes later. In front of them is now a big parking lot surrounded by stores all related to the automotive industry. Root spots the car shop they’re looking for and starts walking away from the tree line. However, she’s stopped by an arm that grabs her waist and pulls her into a bush.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shaw whispers, criticism clear in her voice.

“Walking to the car shop. What does it look like I’m doing, Sameen?” Root murmurs, astonished. Since when were they talking this low anyways? She could barely hear what Shaw said.

“I didn’t know that getting shot made you blind,” Shaw whispers sarcastically, frowning slightly as she looks at the parking lot.

Root follows her gaze. In the weak lighting of the night, she had missed the dark bodies that moved through the cars at a slow pace. Their path to the car shop appears to be completely obstructed by the barely visible creatures. Root sighs quietly. Nothing is ever easy these days.

_We could get to that car_ , Shaw thinks, looking at a lonely Ford at the edge of the parking lot. _It’d risky but the car is far away from the infected so there would be time to hotwire it_ , she adds in her mind.

“We can’t use these cars,” Root whispers in her ear, interrupting Shaw’s thoughts and suddenly being much closer to Shaw than she remembered her to be. “Even if you had time to hotwire one of them, there’s no guarantee the one we pick will have fuel. Plus, they haven’t been used in months, their batteries are most likely dead,” she continues.

Shaw clenches her jaw, mad at the fact that Root thought about those factors before she did. She was right though, the parking lot looks like a dead yard. Their safest bet really is the car shop, even if they have to cross that horde of infected to get to it. Hopefully, there’ll be a vehicle there in a good enough state to drive them out of here or a charged battery they can use.

“Stay here, I’ll get a car form the shop and pick you up,” Shaw orders dryly as she gets up from behind the bush.

“Wait, Sameen,” Root mumbles, grabbing her arm. “You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you,” she says, her eyes clouded with something too close to concern.

“You’re too loud,” Shaw comments, scowling at her. She waits for an innuendo that never comes and realizes this is serious to Root. She doesn’t want to lose her. Shaw rolls her eyes at that and ignores the burning sensation in her chest. “You’ll just slow me down. Stay here and watch your back,” she commands once again, before leaving.

The parking lot is crowded with infected, so Shaw decides to enter the car shop through its back door. From her position, she has to go through two other stores before she reaches it. Shaw runs silently to the side wall of the first store and ducks behind a pile of cardboard boxes that lies on the asphalt. She waits for a couple of moments before taking a look at the parking lot and concluding that the undead didn’t notice her movements. Shaw walks quickly to the edge of the store’s wall and peeks out. There are only about a dozen of zombies along the back of the three stores and they all appear to be oblivious to her presence.

Due to the dark, Shaw can’t recognize Root’s silhouette between the trees anymore and that prompts her to hurry up. She quickly stabs the closer zombie’s skull and catches his body while it falls, laying it on the ground gently in order not to make any noise. However, Shaw’s attempt of not drawing attention to herself fails and the rest of the infected turn their heads to her, starting to walk in her direction, growling wildly. Shaw runs to them and lets her combat knife sink deeply into the skulls of the closer zombies.

Despite Shaw’s rapid stabs, the small group of infected gets closer to her and she’s forced to start using her gun. Shaw shoots each of the undead with precision, causing their bodies to drop in front of her.

Knowing the infected in the parking lot heard the shots, Shaw wastes no time in running over the dead zombies and past the first store. Her heart starts beating faster, pumping blood to the rest of her body as she moves swiftly, getting past the second store in a couple of seconds.

Shaw can hear the growls and steps of the undead behind her and can sense the horrid smell of the dozens of decomposed bodies that pursue her in the dark night. Her combat boots hit the floor rhythmically and soon Shaw’s in front of the car shop’s back door.

Luckily, the door isn’t locked. Shaw quickly gets inside, takes out her flashlight and locks the door behind her. The repair shop is bigger than she expected. Various cars lie here in several states of broken and crushed, by the side of innumerous tool boxes. However, Shaw spots a black Land Rover parked by the right wall that appears to be in good state. _It will have to do_ , Shaw thinks, even though she preferred something faster, _there’s no time to be picky_.

Shaw hurries to the shop’s counter and searches through handfuls of keys until she finds the one she’s looking for. She doubts the back door will hold on for long with all the undead in her pursuit throwing themselves at it, so she loses no time in getting into the car, hoping its battery won’t be dead.

The big red garage door in front of her is locked with a padlock she hadn’t found the key for and the glass door near the counter is currently being almost broken by the infected on the outside. Shaw considers getting out of the car and shooting the padlock but concludes it would take too long. Plus, she’d have to lift it manually and then the zombies on the outside would come in and tear her to pieces.

_Well, fuck it_ , she thinks as she starts the car and drives it towards the glass door. The car barely fits between the counter and the wall but Shaw manages to break through the glass and get over the group of infected that stood outside.

With the zombies hovering over the car, Shaw can barely see where she’s going. Suddenly loud bangs echo in the air and the undead around the car start falling. When they’re out of her field of vision, Shaw spots Root with two guns held high, smiling, standing a couple of feet away. As she gets in the car, Shaw takes in the blood sprayed on her cheeks and the way her hair is messy from the night’s cold breeze.

“Hey, sweetie. You miss me?” Root asks, grinning, once she sat down, and Shaw can’t stop herself from smiling back.

***

Three days passed since the parking lot escape. By avoiding the main highways and stopping in a couple of abandoned houses to stay the nights, they had managed to survive long enough to be now reaching New York City.

In the last couple of days, Root and Shaw had fallen into a sort of routine. They’d clear out the places they went to together, search for whatever they needed and get out. There were no unnecessary explanations on what to do. Root always seemed to know what Shaw was thinking and would get it done easily. They worked well together, assisted each other like they had been doing it for years and not a couple of days.

Sometimes, Shaw caught glimpses of emotions on Root’s eyes that shouldn’t be there at all. However, the other woman would muffle them quickly with her usual playfulness and innuendos, that Shaw had learned to ignore by now.

“We’re an hour away from the city,” Shaw informed, “Excited to see your old friends?”

“Our relationship is rather … complicated. But, for all it’s worth, I think you’re gonna like one of the boys.” Root smirked.

Shaw scowled at her, not bothering to ask who she was referring to. Above them, the sky was pale and grey, packed with dark, ragged clouds. It had rained a few hours ago and Shaw was sure it would rain again soon. The further they drove north the colder it got. In her hoodie and tank top, Shaw has been shaking most of the times they went out of the car and Root hasn’t been much better.

“We’ll have to cross the river on the George Washington Bridge,” Root directed, studying the map they had found in one of the places they spent a night in.

Shaw hummed, acknowledging Root’s statement. They kept driving in silence, going around abandoned cars and lonely infected that walked in the highway absently. Soon they were hovering over the Hudson River and Shaw felt Root shifting in her seat.

“Afraid they won’t be there?” Shaw inquired casually, her eyes never leaving the road.

“They will be there,” Root said, in a low confident tone, not knowing if she was reassuring Shaw or herself.

Despite Root’s self-assurance, she picked at her nails nervously and Shaw could see her bottom lip getting white from the teeth that were biting down on it. The air lingered with uncertainty and Shaw could practically hear Root’s unspoken thoughts. _Will they be there? What if something happened? What if they’re one of those creatures that roam the streets?_

However, those weren’t Root’s main worries. Selfishly, she was afraid of being alone the most. Without the Machine, the last months had been almost unbearable. But she had found Shaw. Her presence filled almost completely the emptiness Root had felt when she lost the Machine. But now, if they couldn’t find Finch and Reese, it would be practically impossible to find a cure for the infection and Root doubted Shaw would stick around without a purpose. The thought of being all by herself in this world was, if anything, very unsettling. Root kept biting down on her lip worriedly, trying to hide the fear she felt but knowing it was pointless; Shaw could see right through her.

Root was pulled out of her thoughts when Shaw stopped the car abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning her head to Shaw, frowning slightly. They were in the middle of the bridge by now. Besides having to go around a lot of cars, Shaw hadn’t had any complication with driving.

Shaw nodded towards the origin of the problem. About sixty feet away, a horde of infected blocked the road, making it impossible for them to get to the other river side.

“We can’t run over that many, but turning around isn’t an option either,” Shaw spoke, her hands grabbing the steering wheel harder as she tried to think of a solution.

Suddenly, the zombies in the middle of the horde started falling. Shaw couldn’t hear any shots, but she was sure the infected were being dropped by bullets. While her eyes searched for a shooter in the metallic bridge, a path was cleared in the middle of the horde. At the end of it, there was a guy in a motorcycle with a rifle held high. Shaw saw Root smiling brightly through the corner of her eye. Her smile was the only certification Shaw needed to drive through the clear path in the crowd of undead and reach the guy that she now noticed was tall and appeared to be wearing a suit.

“Still trying to save people, John?” Root asked, smiling at the man, when their vehicles were next to each other.

“Root?!” the guy gasped, looking momentarily shocked before his previous neutral expression slipped back into his features. “Come on, we’ve got a cleared building close by,” he said, before driving off with Root and Shaw right behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

They had only been driving for a couple of minutes before the guy in the suit stopped his motorcycle in front of a six-floored, grey building. He got off his vehicle and Shaw and Root did the same, taking everything they had with them. Above their heads, the sky roared, reminding them of the rain that was to come, just as three infected turned their heads to them at the end of the street.

With his rifle held waist high in safe measure, John motioned for Root and Shaw to follow him. They quickly walked to the building’s fire escape, climbing up the ladder that led to the stairs before the three infected could reach them.

“Harold’s gonna be surprised to see you,” John spoke, turning to Root, a little grin finding its way into his lips, “He gave up on the idea of you being alive months ago. What took you so long?” he asked as they climbed the second row of stairs.

“Well, John, Sameen here wasn’t a very easy person to find,” Root replied, smirking at Shaw and looking at her with those stupid heart eyes.

As good as this reunion was, Shaw was staring to get really annoyed. She scoffed at Root and pushed away the arm the woman had locked on hers moments ago for support. Her gunshot wound was healing well and Shaw was sure she didn’t even need help to walk anymore. John raised an eyebrow at them, silently asking what was going on between them. Root smiled wider, causing Shaw to roll her eyes and focus her gaze on John, studying him.

He moved swiftly through the rows of stairs, his expression always neutral as he told Root he and Harold had to relocate because of the thieves and hordes of infected that passed by their previous building. He never asked unnecessary questions or told unimportant facts of what had happened, making Shaw think that maybe there was a chance she would tolerate him.

When they finally reached the last floor of the building, tiny drops of water started falling from the angry clouds above them, hitting the asphalt of the street with a satisfying noise. John knocked on the window in front of them loudly, in order to make his presence known for the people inside, Shaw supposed.

The window’s curtains were pulled apart immediately, revealing a dark skinned woman in the other side, with a gun pointed at them. Shaw instinctively moved her hand from her side to grab her firearm at the back of her jeans, but was stopped by Root, who stroked her arm and smiled at her.

“It’s alright Joss, they’re with us,” John stated, over the rain’s noise. A flash of recognition came up in the woman’s eyes as her gaze went over Root. She put the gun down and opened up the window, allowing them to come inside.

They stepped into a small bedroom and wiped the raindrops out of their faces. Shaw quickly turned her head to the room’s door as she heard something hitting the apartment’s floor tiles and then irregular steps, coming in their direction.

“Mr. Reese, is that you?” Shaw heard a man ask from the inside of the apartment. “You should really stop going outside for so long – Oh, Miss Groves!” The man gasped, once he reached the bedroom’s door and was close enough to see inside the room. He was wearing a suit and although it wasn’t very flashy or stylish, it was good enough for Shaw to conclude that before the apocalypse he had money, a lot of it. He pushed his glasses up his nose, as if trying to believe what he was seeing and moved closer to the group. Shaw noticed he walked with a limp and was accompanied by an alert, brownish dog that stood by his side loyally.

“Hello, Harry,” Root grinned, walking in his direction and putting her hands on his shoulders, “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Yes, we do indeed,” he said, his perplexed expression still on his face, “But perhaps we should focus on that later,” he continued, turning to Sameen, “You must be Miss Shaw.”

Shaw nodded, still focused on studying her new team. Meanwhile, sensing no threat, the dog had moved to John and was currently licking his hands excitedly, while John patted his head.

“I trust Miss Groves told you who I am,” Harold spoke, bringing Shaw’s attention back to him, “That’s Mr. Reese,” he said, pointing at John, “And that’s Detective Carter,” he continued, moving his hands to point at the woman who had opened the window. Shaw nodded respectfully at her and was told to call the woman Joss.

“And this is Bear,” John said, smiling down at the dog and finishing the introductions.

Shaw hummed in acknowledgment and walked around the room with her hands in her pockets, exploring the apartment.

“Well, you guys are definitively having more fun in the apocalypse than I am,” she said once she reached the living room. “Did you rob a military base or something?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at an enormous pile of guns and ammo in the corner of the room.

“Something like that,” John smirked, following her gaze. He put down his rifle next to a long, metallic briefcase Shaw was sure contained a portable missile launcher.

Outside the apartment, the heavy rain fell intensely on the ground and the dark sky muffled the afternoon’s sunlight with its bold, angry clouds.

“It’ll be dark soon. You two look like crap,” Joss said, looking over Shaw and Root, “Why don’t you go to one of the other apartments and get cleaned up?” she suggested, eyeing Root’s blood stained shirt, “I’m sure you’ll find clothes that fit.”

John handed them some packs of wet wipes they could use, on their way out the door.

“I’m glad you’re back, Root,” he said quietly, letting her know he meant it, before stepping away and rejoining the group.

Shaw walked to the apartment in front of the group’s and was about to close its door when she noticed Root behind her. _Oh, fuck no_ , she thought. She wasn’t going to give up the only time she could be at peace before the big mission by letting Root stay with her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shaw asked harshly. She had already been expecting the invasion of space but that didn’t mean she was going to let it happen.

“You ask that a lot, Sameen,” Root replied, smiling down at her. The fact that Shaw’s jaw wasn’t clenched and her fists weren’t ready to hit her told Root that she could push a little further. “I’m getting my bandages changed. It’s been 72 hours,” she continued, leaning on the door frame with her annoying smile still on her lips. Sometimes Shaw wondered how it was possible to smile as much as Root did.

“You can do that by yourself,” Shaw grunted tiredly, trying to close the door so Root would go away. However, the other woman held it open and made her way inside.

“But you’re so much better at it than I am,” Root pouted, showing she had no intention to leave.

Shaw shook her head with disbelief and muttered a quick “Fine” before disappearing to the bathroom. She tried to get the whole cleaning and bandaging process over as quickly as possible, but decided not to when she noticed just how affected Root was by it. Her skin got goose bumps from Shaw’s touch and her pulse got quicker when Shaw looked her in the eyes. Shaw had to admit it was kinda hot watching the reactions she could get from Root just by touching her casually and looking at her less angrily. It made Shaw wonder what other reactions she could get from Root by touching her somewhere else. She pushed that idea away though; she wasn’t desperate enough to turn to Root for sex. Not yet anyway.

When Shaw was done bandaging the wound, Root let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. However, she didn’t move away, knowing she wasn’t the only one who was affected by this new found closeness. She let Shaw’s eyes travel on her skin, from her stomach to her collar bones, and smiled softly when Shaw licked her lips appreciatively, as her gaze fell on Root’s breasts. Shaw took a mental note of every scar on Root’s body, of every white patch of skin that not only told her she got hurt a lot but also that she enjoyed it. When Shaw’s eyes reached Root’s, the woman bit her lower lip, causing Shaw to swallow. Root decided that was the perfect moment to get up and dress herself, leaving a dazed Shaw in the bathroom.

Shaw quickly recovered, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at herself for staring for so long. She decided to go look for something to wear and sighed as she noticed Root had the same idea.

“I found some things you’ll like, sweetie,” Root smirked like nothing had happened before, handing her a pile of dark clothes.

“Oh, and I think you’ll need these too,” Root said, grinning at her as she gave her matching black lace underwear, that Shaw would never consider wearing in the apocalypse.

However, after a quick glance over the drawer Root was searching through, she took the underwear Root was handing her with a scoff and left the room, telling Root they should get cleaned before getting dressed and ignoring the other woman’s answer about doing it for each other.

Once they were both clean and they had covered up the windows for the night, Root and Shaw rejoined the group in order to discuss their next step.

“Now that you’ve made yourself comfortable, maybe you could reveal the Machine’s location, Miss Groves,” Harold suggested, laying an USA map on the dinner table and handing out a red marker to Root.

They all paid close attention as Root left a small, red dot in Nevada, in the middle of nowhere.

“The Machine is in the desert?” John asked, looking at Root. The way his eyes widened slightly was the only indication of his surprise.

“Before Samaritan went online, She had a facility built there as a plan B. When the power went out and the communications started failing, she was forced to move there, back to her old servers,” Root explained with a frown, infuriated at what the apocalypse forced the Machine to become.

“And how do you plan on getting there?” Carter inquired, her eyes running over the map on the table, “That’s at least two thousand miles away.”

“We can’t drive there, the roads aren’t safe,” Shaw said, intervening in the conversation for the first time when she thought of the hunters and all the roads that were blocked by the undead. “We’ll have to fly,” she smirked.

“In the beginning of the infection, a lot of jets landed illegally in the JFK airport. Most of the owners probably ended up being the infected’s lunch. I bet a lot of birds are still there,” John stated, smiling at the idea of flying a jet again.

“Isn’t that a bit reckless, Mr. Reese?” Harold asked, apprehension clouding his dark eyes, “The airport has been overrun months ago.”

“We don’t really have another option, Finch,” John replied, shrugging his shoulders and dismissing his friend’s worries.

“We’re all set then,” Root smiled brightly in anticipation and turned to Shaw, “It seems like you’re going to pilot a jet, sweetie.”

***

In the next morning, Shaw wakes up with a groan. She opens her eyes slowly and lets them adjust to the morning light that infiltrates the room through its covered up window. She hasn’t felt this well rested in a while. _It must be the bed_ , she concludes, her brain wondering back to the time before the apocalypse. Although her body begs her to stay in bed her bit longer, Shaw pushes herself up and sits on the bed to take a look at her watch. _8:04,_ it reads. _Time to wake up Root_ , she thinks, rolling her eyes at herself when her mind immediately goes back to the staring incident in the bathroom last night.

When they came back from the group’s apartment, Root had insisted continuously in staying with her. After a while of listening to the woman constantly flirting and having to see her so confident smiles, Shaw realized Root wasn’t going to give up any time soon and ended up letting her stay in the couch. Root had smiled victoriously and made some comment about them sleeping together one day, which Shaw promptly ignored.

Shaw puts on her clothes quickly and uncovers the bedroom’s window, noticing a small group of infected walking in the street bellow her, occasionally bumping into abandoned cars. The sky looks as it looked yesterday: grey and angry. Shaw ties her hair in its usual ponytail, getting ready to face a sleepy Root. In the day’s they have spent together, Shaw is always the one who wakes up first, having to literally shake Root awake. Today, however, when Shaw enters the living room ready to kick Root out of the couch, the woman is already conscious. She’s sitting in a chair near a tall bookcase, holding a white book with some weird drawing in the cover. She’s wearing the expected leather jacket but Shaw notices she changed her blue jeans to darker and tighter ones and she’s no longer wearing the black and red plaid shirt she wore last night, having now a grey sweater on. It’s a shame honestly. Shaw had really enjoyed seeing her in that shirt, not that she would admit it.

She takes the other woman in once again, noticing the way her always impeccable curls fall down on her jacket lapels and her deep brown eyes are fixated on the book’s cover. Shaw clears her throat, letting her presence be known. Root’s eyes instantaneously shoot up to meet hers.

“I didn’t know you were awake, Sameen,” she says smiling, even though her voice lingers with darkness. “Can we take this?” she asks, waving the book in front of Shaw.

She replies with an amused “Sure”, taking the book from Root. _Flowers for Algernon_ , Shaw reads on the cover, before stuffing the book in her backpack. From Root’s expression, Shaw knows it means something to her but decides not to ask about it. After all it’s not her business and it’s not like she cares.

Minutes later, they knock softly on the group’s door and help them pack their weapons and supplies. Once they’re all ready, they go down the fire escape and head to Root and Shaw’s car, having to put down only a couple of infected in order to get to it.

Root’s surprised when Shaw throws the car’s keys at John and enters the back seats. On all their time together, Shaw had never let Root drive. Not even when she hadn’t slept in almost two days after their encounter with the hunters. However, Root doesn’t complain about her choice, seeing an opportunity to annoy the tiny woman. She enters the car right after Shaw, forcing her to move to the middle seat and sits next to her, closer than it would be necessary. Shaw gives her a glare but her features soften unexpectedly when Carter takes a seat on her other side and Bear jumps on her lap, laying his head on Shaw’s thighs.

Root had never felt anything special for the dog, but now that he is making Shaw smile she might just have grown fond of him. She watches as Shaw scratches his ears and he licks her wrist in return. Until that moment, Root had thought her favorite look on Shaw was the “I just killed 15 men with my bare hands and I’m now covered in their blood” look but when Bear jumps up to lick her face and Shaw lets him, smiling, Root thinks she might change her mind.

John drives them through the city as fast as possible, avoiding the main avenues and going around hordes of undead easily. The car is silent, except for when Harold expresses his doubts in their plan and John reassures him they’ll be fine.

When they finally make it to the airport’s fourth terminal, after 40 minutes of avoiding running over the infected, John stops the car and motions for Shaw to follow him. They both get out of the car with their weapons ready to fire and Root watches them as they check both sides of the terminal. John gives Shaw an apprehensive look while they walk back to the car, careful not to step on the broken glass that covers the cement floor.

“We can’t go around the main building like we had planned,” Shaw starts, closing the car’s door as quietly as possible.

“How bad is it, Miss Shaw?” Harold asks, turning around to face her. She sees the fear creeping into his eyes and tries to find a way to tell him they’re screwed without alarming him even more.

“They’re hundreds on each side,” John announces calmly before Shaw can come up with an answer, “On both sides, they’re maybe a thousand,” he estimates. Harold’s eyes widen and everything’s silent when the man takes in a sharp breath. Shaw can tell he’s scared to death of the undead; he probably hasn’t even killed one.

“Our best option is to go through the terminal’s building and make a run for one of the jets in the runways,” Shaw states confidently and looks up at John, searching for his agreement. He nods and Shaw looks at Carter with the same purpose, turning to Root soon after. Shaw notices she seems worried, maybe a bit scared. However, she loads her guns, letting Shaw know she’s ready to fight the undead and that she agrees with the plan as well.

After a few failed attempts of arming Harold made by John, the group gets out of the car, taking as many bags of supplies as they can with them. They walk carefully, focused on not attracting unwanted attention. John and Shaw reach the building first, soon followed by Root and Carter, who walk on Finch’s sides, protecting him. A zombie approaches them from the left but it’s quickly put down by Shaw’s knife.

The morning light, muffled by grey clouds, only reaches so far inside the building, making it impossible to see in certain zones. Shaw can hear the far groans and moans of the infected that let her know they’re not alone in the huge terminal. As they go deeper into the building, she notices a subtle movement in the shadows, near what were once check-in counters. She stops abruptly, making Root collide with her and points her gun to the darkness, showing the group why she stopped.

They all look in that direction, sustaining their breathings unconsciously when the light hits the side of a bald, grey head fifty feet away. The infected walks around dazedly with half his arm bended at an unnatural angle. Its elbow appears to be bitten to the bone, causing his forearm to bounce around as he goes back to the shadows.

Now that the group has taken a better look at the dark spots of the building, they can see there’s more than just one creature hiding from the light. Several zombies in different states of torn apart stand near the counters on the far wall, oblivious to their presence. John points towards an open door twenty feet away from the undead, that will hopefully get them past the airport’s security area and lead them into the duty-free shops zone.

Root holds Harold’s left arm tightly as they move to the door, letting him lean on her so his limp isn’t so loud. Root’s eyes start getting adjusted to dim lighting as they get closer to the door. However, she fails to see the tiny glass shards that cover the floor on her left and unluckily steps on them. The sound of glass being smashed beneath her feet fills the air, making the undead turn their heads to the team immediately and start walking to them.

Shaw’s the first to react, sliding her knife in the closest creature’s eye until it reaches its brain. Bear, who had been silent until now, starts growling at the infected and jumps on one that gets close to John and tearing his throat apart, until the creature’s head is separated from its shoulders and the dead body stops moving.

“Run!” John orders, taking Harold away from Root’s grip and starting to shoot at the undead that are now running in their direction, anxious for their flesh. The air gets filled with noise; shots and groans echo in it, being occasionally accompanied by Bear’s loud barks.

They hurry to the door, barely making it before the infected do. Shaw shuts the door quickly and grits her teeth at the amount of force she has to put on it so the weight of the undead doesn’t open it.

“Go, I’ll hold them off,” she says, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans and reloading her gun. Her eyes run over Root briefly and she looks like she’s about to protest, but Shaw’s glare is enough to remind her Shaw can take care of herself and doesn’t need her protection.

John orders Bear to stay with Shaw before running off with the group. Root looks at Shaw one last time and then she’ running after John. Shaw doesn’t know how many infected are outside the door. They could be twenty or hundreds, depending on how much the undead outside the airport terminal had heard. Still, she waits with her back pressed against the door until she can’t take the door’s pressure anymore and she’s sure Root and the others have a good head start before releasing the door and running away as fast as she can with the dog.

She runs past different corridors so fast she almost hits the walls when she’s forced to turn on their corners. Her legs start burning form the effort and her breathing starts getting irregular, her lungs screaming for more oxygen. She tries to ignore the heavy pounding of her heart against her chest and the weight of the bad full of ammo she’s carrying. She can’t see an exit yet, but the sound of dozens of steps and growls behind her makes her run even faster than before.

Despite the fact that there are several creatures pursuing her in the dark corridors, trying to kill her, Shaw feels incredibly alive. She focuses on her breathing, getting it as regular as possible and welcomes the wave of adrenalin she feels running in her veins when she sees the exit off the corridors.

She can see her group in what must be the restaurants and shops zone of the airport, fighting a group of infected that jumped on them from one of the stores. She goes past the exit quickly, shooting two infected in the head when they try to sink their teeth in her. As she reaches the group with Bear, she notices Root fighting against a dead woman, her left arm pressed against the zombie’s throat as her other arm struggles to reach her machete, that’s fallen on the floor. Shaw easily shoots the infected before it can dig its fingernails on Root’s skin.

Root quickly picks up her weapon from the floor and turns around, not being able to stop herself from grinning when she sees Shaw behind her, her hair messy from running and her neck shining with a thin layer of sweat. Shaw joins the team on the fight against the undead and Root focuses herself on shooting and stabbing the infected once again. She’s relieved to have Shaw back on her side. As good as Carter and John are as partners, she and Shaw make a much better team. Plus Root had been worried about her.

By now, the undead that were pursuing Shaw in the corridors have made their way through the door and are now approaching them. Finch spots a hallway that leads into one of the airports gate areas and instructs the team to go there. Moving as fast as possible, the group finds almost no infected in their way as they rush to the gates.

With John and Carter leading the way through the hallway, Shaw finds herself with Root, protecting Finch’s back. Due to the unarmed man’s limp, the team can’t run as fast as they need to and ends up letting the undead that pursue them get closer.

Root and Shaw turn around, shooting the infected that manage to get near them and warn John that they need to move faster. Acknowledging them, John orders Harold to climb on his back and starts running faster when the man does so. The group is quick to follow him and soon they’re in front of enormous broken windows that face the dark runways. The group wastes no time and runs in the direction of the jets that had illegally parked in the black runways, following the plan.

All the running and fighting is leaving Root exhausted. She can feel her side screaming in pain as she forces herself not to stop and her heart beating erratically, far too fast to be considered normal. Even so, she pushes herself to keep running side by side with Shaw, focusing on how important getting to the Machine is.

As they run, hordes of infected appear from the terminal’s sides, leaving the team almost surrounded. Regardless of their effort, the group starts losing ground to the infected, being now separated from them only by a couple of feet. Their guns quickly run out of bullets from having to shoot so much and they’re forced to start using their knives, making it easy for the undead to bite them.

“See that jet a hundred yards away with the dead pilot on the ground beneath it?” John asks the group between ragged breaths, “Run to it as fast as you can,” he instructs before punching a bunch of infected out of his way and grabbing Carter’s hand, running away with Finch on his back and Joss on his side.

Root follows his lead and stops trying to kill the infected that surround them, pushing them away instead and clearing herself a path to run through. After managing to escape the infected, Root realizes Shaw isn’t with her. She turns around, her heart beating even faster than before for completely different reasons. Apparently, one of the zombies Shaw had pushed away fell to the ground and got a grip on her foot, making Shaw sink to the floor involuntarily. The zombie is now climbing on top of Shaw’s body as she tries to find her knife, that Root notices is laying on the asphalt, several feet away. More infected start hovering over Shaw’s tiny form while she tries to get them off herself and Root lets out a scared “Sameen!” not thinking twice before running over to Shaw and cutting the zombies’ heads off their shoulders with her machete.

When Shaw looks up to her savior, there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes, but it quickly goes away as she gets up and grabs her knife from the floor with her usual scowl. When Root and Shaw reach the rest of the team, John has already taken the jet’s keys out of the dead pilot’s body and is climbing into the jet, followed by Finch and Carter.

Once they’re all on board and the doors are closed, the groans of the undead on the outside are muffled by the sound of the team’s labored breaths. Root’s eyes run over Shaw’s exposed skin, looking for bite marks and scratches through the stains of dark blood. When Root’s eyes get to Shaw’s, she’s surprised to find the woman’s gaze on her body, making sure she’s alright as well. Shaw grabs her hands and inspects them, nodding softly when she concludes she’s fine. Root can’t stop the wide smile that reaches her lips when Shaw runs her thumb over her hand before letting go.


	6. Chapter 6

They had been in the air for about half an hour when Shaw emerged from the pilot’s cabin and told John to replace her. After getting on the plane and making sure the team and Root were okay, Shaw had a little discussion with John about who’d fly them out of there and ended up agreeing she’d let him pilot the jet after she took it off the ground. Now that they were above the grey clouds and high in the sky, Shaw wondered around in the jet for a bit before deciding to sit down on a white couch, as far away from Root as possible.

“Got tired of flying, sweetie?” Root smirked, moving from her previous spot to sit next to Shaw and wipe away the blood of the undead Shaw hadn’t had time to clean yet. By now, Shaw already knew Root well enough to know that if she backed away or moved somewhere else, the woman would follow her. Due to that, Shaw didn’t fight against Root’s touch, staying as still as a statue while the perky woman brought a tissue to her face and wiped away some dried blood on her forehead.

“So, what’s the book about?” Shaw asked casually, leaning back on the couch when Root was done touching her in completely unnecessary places that weren’t dirty at all.

“What?”

“The book you made me take with us,” Shaw clarified, taking the referred object out of her backpack and erasing the confused look on Root’s face. “Flowers for Algernon. What is it about?”

“Oh,” Root gasped. She hadn’t even thought about it since they had left to the airport and the idea that Shaw would remember it and want to talk about it hadn’t even crossed her mind. “I – huh – haven’t read it yet,” she ended up answering after a couple of seconds had gone by in silence. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest at the fact Shaw had bothered to ask, contrasting with the suffocating sensation that first appeared when she saw the book.

“So why did you want to bring it with you?” Shaw inquired, determined on getting to know more about Root, not because she cared, but because Root seemed to know everything about her and it was only fair she got to know a bit about the annoying woman as well. She knew that certain books can mean a lot to people, seeing that they carry emotional messages or something, what turned this book into a perfect opportunity to get inside Root’s head, not that she wanted to go there.

“I – huh – When I was a kid, before I started working on building myself a reputation, I had a friend. Her name was Hannah and this was her favorite book,” Root explained, her hands holding the book softly as she run her fingers on its cover. Shaw had never seen Root so vulnerable and suddenly she wished she hadn’t asked; Root’s feelings were not something she wanted to deal with. Still, Shaw let Root continue and fought her urge to run away as Root took a deep breath, “One night, a man kidnapped her and killed her,” she said stoically, trying to ignore the way her throat seemed to be closing and her chest felt immensely heavy.

Root grabbed the book a bit harder. She didn’t need to tell Shaw about how Hannah had been her only friend back then, the only person who treated her like she was normal and didn’t pity her. She didn’t need to tell her about how two years later she set up the man responsible for Hannah’s death and got him killed. Or about how, when she thought about it, she was happy Hannah was dead so she didn’t have to see the world how it was today, filled with creatures that would hunt you down for your flesh. Instead of telling Shaw all those things, she let the silence fill the space between them and the memories of Hannah overflow her.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Shaw noticed Finch eying them suspiciously from a chair in the opposite side of the jet. She got up and told Root to help her find something to drink, in order to get away from Finch’s gaze.

Shaw spent the next hour playing with Bear while Root watched, after they had a drink. Apparently, people who fly in expensive jets like to keep top shelf bottles of whiskey around, much to Shaw’s delight. Root had scrunched her nose when her tongue got to the alcohol and Shaw had to hide a smile by gulping down her own drink, because that had been so predictable.

When John announced they were almost landing, Shaw watched Root’s smile grow wider with anticipation and caught herself wondering, not for the first time, what kind of relationship Root had with this Machine.

“Ready to meet God, Sameen?” Root asked, her eyes shining with enthusiasm and something else Shaw couldn’t quite place. She eyed Root skeptically, trying to remind herself of why she had chosen to sit next to her after she got Bear too tired to play.

As soon as John landed the jet and it stopped moving, Root jumped out the door, anxious to be reunited with the lost divinity.

When John came out of the pilot’s cabin, Shaw noticed his confused expression. Apparently, he thought there was nothing there. Shaw could hear Root mumble from outside the plane and decided to go take her look for herself in order to confirm if John was right.

Shaw didn’t take long to understand he was, there was, in fact, nothing there. They were literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded my miles of sand, dirt and low bushes. There wasn’t even a road near them, form what Shaw could see. Anger started burning inside her when the thought she came here for nothing came up in her mind.

By now, the whole group was out of the jet. Harold walked to Root, who was pacing around absently, and touched her shoulder softly to get her attention. “The Machine is not here, Miss Groves,” he said calmly, as if he was afraid of her reaction.

“She has to be,” Root mumbled. The desperation in her voice was clear and the tears that were almost falling from her eyes made Shaw tense. She kept walking around, ignoring Harold’s comments on how they should leave.

“We can’t leave, Harold. We need to find her, we need to – ” Root stopped talking when a metallic noise filled the air, coming from beneath her feet. She stepped on the same place and the metallic noise echoed in the air once again. Root hurried to clean the dirt out of what seemed to be a door to an underground facility and smiled brightly when she got it open with a key the Machine had given her months before the apocalypse started and never told her what it was for.

“I have always told you to have a little faith, Harry,” she breathed out with relief, while lifting the door off the ground so they could come in. All the previous devastation and desperation slipped away from her face, being replaced by the brightest smile Shaw had ever seen on Root.

The team went through the door, going down rows of metallic stairs and entering the facility with their guards on. Once it became too dark to see what they’re facing, John, Carter and Shaw lighted up their flashlights. The first thing they were able to see once they reached the bottom of the stairs was a dozen of generators, aligned in pairs, creating a path they could go through. As Shaw walked between the generators, right behind Root, she noticed there were several cables coming out of them, but none were turned on.

Once they had passed by the generators, a short corridor leaded them into one of the biggest rooms Shaw had ever been in. There was a small table in front of them, with a laptop and a pair of earplugs on top of it, which Root quickly got to. Further into the enormous room, innumerous black, tall servers stood next to each other, clearing Shaw’s doubts about what the generators in the other room were supposed to power.

Detecting no threats, John and Shaw put their guns down, just as Root turned around with her brilliant smile still on her lips.

“We have to turn the generators on, kids,” Root beamed, turning away from the team once again and looking at the black servers that filled the room with something close to adoration. John quickly proceeded to carry out the task and, suddenly, the whole room lighted up and the servers started shining with green and red lights. The group turned off their flashlights and joined Root by the computer, which was now lit up.

“I can hear you,” Root said softly, an easy smile playing on her lips as she held one of the earplugs to her left ear.

After a brief change of words between Root and the Machine, She presented herself to the other members of the team and was quick to get to the point of their visit. The computer in front of them showed up a map of Maine with a small dot in what appeared to be woods. The Machine informed them that there was the facility Samaritan had been operating from and also where they had created the zombie infection. She explained she had no knowledge of a cure but that Samaritan had ordered the creation of a vaccine, so His agents wouldn’t be compromised by the infection.

Shaw observed her teammates reactions while the Machine spoke. She noticed how Root was practically ecstatic from being back together with her god and Harold’s eyes had widened slightly when She told them there was no cure. John and Joss looked like they weren’t surprised, their facial expressions telling Shaw they wanted to get the mission done right away, just like she did.

“So, what do we do now?” Shaw asked, her voice sounding loud as it broke the silence that had found its way into the room.

“We go get that vaccine,” John answered simply, shrugging his shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal, “Get some Samaritan agents to replicate it so it can be distributed among the survivors.”

Once the group had agreed, they started going back to the stairs, leaving behind a conflicted Root. She knew what the Machine wanted her to do, even before She spoke. She wanted her to go help her team save the human race and leave Her there, but Root felt like she couldn’t bare to lose Her again. The thought that this was probably the last time she’d ever speak to the Machine came to her mind and she decided she would make their last time together count.

Noticing Root wasn’t behind her, Shaw turned around and found her talking to the computer. She couldn’t hear what she was saying, but didn’t come any closer, giving Root the privacy she probably wanted.

“Are you coming?” Shaw asked after a while, when Root had stopped talking to the Machine and was just standing in front of the table, her feet refusing to move. She turned around slowly and replaced her sad smile with the mischievous one she always directed at Shaw.

“I’m sure you know what to do if you want me to come, sweetie,” she smirked, putting down her earplug and walking over to Shaw. Before they left the servers room and turned off the generators, Shaw would swear she heard Root mutter a quiet “Goodbye.”

***

This time, Shaw flies the jet the whole way to their destiny and Root sits next to her, trying to get a reaction out of the tiny woman with little comments and innuendos that Shaw’s ready to ignore. The fact that Root is talking more than usual brings her to the conclusion that she’s trying to distract herself, so Shaw let’s her continue, merely scowling at her and rolling her eyes once in a while. As much as Shaw wouldn’t like to admit it, she’s getting used to Root’s presence and the woman’s flirting almost doesn’t annoy her anymore.

They land in Maine two hours after leaving the Machine, in huge glade surrounded by walls of trees whose leafs are starting to turn brown. The group sits together for a while after the jet has landed, discussing how they’re going to take over the Samaritan facility and how they should deal with the evil AI’s agents. While Harold affirms they should only incapacitate them, Shaw firmly defends they should definitively kill them, because if they only knock them out they won’t be neutralizing the threat.

Shaw misses shooting people, even though the undead are a pretty good alternative, she longs for the thrill of hunting someone down. Root watches Shaw closely, smiling at her murderous thoughts and at the eye roll she gives John when he agrees with Harold. As Carter joins the soft side and announces she wouldn’t like to kill anyone, Shaw pets Bear’s head in defeat and gets up to get her things before they move out.

The team hops off the plane and heads east through the woods, putting down the infected that come across them with ease. Shaw looks at the sky, wondering when it will unleash its anger on them. From the way the ground is dry and the undead’s clothes aren’t wet, she can tell that it hasn’t rained in a while. However, the sky’s occasional flashes and heavy grey clouds tell her they should take over that facility fast or they’ll be spending the night with the infected under a storm.

After walking in silence for a mile, they reach an opening in the trees and hide behind a couple of bushes, in order not to be noticed. When Shaw peeks out to take a look at what they’re facing, she has to admit this wasn’t what she expected. Surrounded by trees, a two storey building stands in front of them, protected by a high barbed wire fence. However, this isn’t what surprises Shaw, after all this is the home of an evil super computer. What makes her want to turn around and get away from the facility are the dozens of infected that walk around, with their heads down, between the fence and the facility’s white walls. Shaw takes a better look at the fence and notices it has big holes every 20 feet, making it seem that they were cut into the metal on purpose.

“Either these guys are using the undead as a weird protection system or they’re not here,” John comments after the team stays in silence for a while, voicing the group’s worries.

“Oh, they’re here,” Shaw says, pointing at a sniper on the top of the roof and smiling at the opportunity of finally kicking someone’s ass.

“We’ve have to take out the infected before we can make our way inside,” Joss states, taking her gun out of its holster, “We should probably aim for one of the side doors. The front one seems to be heavily barricaded,” she adds.

“Once we reach the fence, the sniper on the roof will be able to see us and his Samaritan buddies will come out to play,” Root says with a smile, looking as ready as anyone could be and turning to Shaw, “Ready, sweetie?”

Shaw hums in response and gets up, running by John’s side to one of the fence’s holes with her gun held high. Hearing their steps, the infected, that until now hadn’t been aware of the team’s presence, turn their heads to them and start growling and walking in their direction, creating a wall of dead bodies between the group and the white building. Shaw quickly starts stabbing the closer zombies, having John’s support and getting him to fight beside her. Root and Carter are also quick to assume their positions and start shooting the infected, protecting Harold, who’s defenseless. However, despite the team’s best efforts, the undead keep coming at them, making it impossible to clear a path to one of the side doors of the facility or even get near the building’s walls.

Soon, the building’s windows open and guys with automatic rifles start shooting at them, sending a stream of bullets in their direction. Root quickly stabs a zombie’s head with her machete and holds his body close to her, just as a hail of bullets is sent in her direction. The dead body shields her from the deadly cooper rain, leaving her covered in dark blood, her face sprayed with red drops of the disgusting liquid that Root manages to wipe away from her eyes. She loses no time shooting at some of the Samaritan agents in the windows and looks over and Shaw and the team to see how they’re doing.

Shaw’s sweatshirt sleeve has been ripped apart and the skin underneath it is painted scarlet, from what Root can only assume was a bullet graze. Apart from that, Root would say she’s enjoying herself by the way she fiercely fires back and a ghost of a smile hovers over her lips when she hits a Samaritan agent.

Root brings her attention back to the undead that, unfortunately, weren’t being stopped by any of Samaritan’s bullets and continued to come at them, appearing out of nowhere. Between stabbing infected and shooting at their enemy, the team has a hard time getting to the side door and all Root can think is _this isn’t going to work_.

The team’s guns are running out of bullets as fast as it would be expected in a situation like this and they’re forced to start using their extra clips to keep the infected away and take out the Samaritan agents, who they’ve started to shoot in centre mass, since there wasn’t another way to get rid of them.

By now, Shaw’s hands are covered in her own blood, as she tries to stop the bleeding on her arm. Her knife starts slipping on her hands when she slides it into the infected’s skulls. She dries her hands on her pants as well as she can and starts shooting at the guys on the window when they come out of hiding, managing to take out two.

Due to the gunfire’s noise, more infected start walking in their direction, coming from the trees. As Shaw is forced to turn around and shoot the ones that stand closer to her team, she notices Root is nowhere to be seen. She curses her under her breath, putting the thought of the woman being in trouble aside as Samaritan agents come out the side doors off the building and start shooting at the team between the zombies. Shaw is forced to lay flat on the ground, having nothing to cover her from the hail of bullets that is determinately sent her way.

“Where’s Root?” Shaw asks as soon as the enemy stops firing and her question can be heard. She shoots the closer zombies before they can get to them and tries to wound the guys shooting at them, but they appear to have body armor.

“She said something about clearing the right side of the building,” John answers between firing his gun and stabbing the infected that was getting too close to Carter.

“She’s going to get herself killed,” Shaw breathes out, lying on the ground once more as the Samaritan agents start shooting at them again. There’s this particular blonde woman that’s pissing Shaw off, being the one who gave her the painful bullet graze on her left arm.

“Go,” John says with drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, “Me and Carter can handle it, I’ll cover you.”

When John gets up and starts firing at the Samaritan agents, Shaw doesn’t need to be told what to do and starts running to the right side of the building. She has to go out the fence and get through it once again, in order to avoid the horde of infected. Even so, she makes it far enough to see a fling of brown hair fifty feet away, before being stopped by the realization that between her and Root stand at least fifteen zombies, and she only has three rounds left. _Fuck it_ , she thinks, getting ready to stab her way to Root even though her heart is beating furiously from all the action and her arm is sore from the constantly stabbing the undead. However, she doesn’t have time to do anything about the infected, since one of the Samaritan agents shows up in front of her and tries to disarm her.

Shaw quickly punches his jaw and brings his face to her knee when he tries to fight back, smiling proudly at the crushing sound of the guy’s nose breaking. Apparently, the blow left him unconscious and Shaw decides to leave him for the dead, taking his automatic rifle with her and shooting the infected on her way to Root with it.

The woman seems to be in a fight of her own, trying to get rid of an infected that’s grabbing her hair and using the grip to bring her closer. Before it can sink his black teeth on Root’s neck, Shaw shoots the creature’s head, causing its body to go down to the ground. Root easily stabs a zombie in front of her and then turns around, smiling brightly at her savior.

_She looks like shit_ , Shaw notices, taking a look at the woman as she runs to her. Her face is covered in smudges of the undead’s blood and her hair is all messy; Shaw’s pretty sure a strand or two of brown curls are missing. Root’s jacket is somewhere on the ground, presumably taken off by the undead, and her grey shirt is ripped in several places and dyed with dark stains, looking more like it’s black than grey. Shaw knows that from her closeness to the undead, Root has probably been infected, but decides not to worry about it as she sees no sign of any wounds and makes a mental note to check her body for scratches later.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Shaw snaps, once she got to Root, the thought of her being infected still lingering on her mind, even though she had pushed it away, “Do you have a death wish, Root?”

The woman seems unfazed by Shaw’s anger, what only makes her even angrier at her because _damn, she could have died_. Shaw roughly grabs Root’s arm and gets her jacket from the ground, dragging her back to the rest of the team before the undead can catch up to them. On their way back, despite Shaw’s anger, they quickly sync back on team mode, stabbing and shooting their way back to John, Harold and Carter.

When they get to the team, Root notices they’re not doing very well. John has grabbed his submachine gun from his backpack and his holding his right shoulder with his free hand, trying to stop the blood that’s flowing out of him. Carter doesn’t appear to be injured, but is having a hard time taking down the Samaritan agents and protecting Harold, who’s on the ground with his hands over his ears, probably panicking. The wall of infected between them and the enemy is thinner now, but it still obstructs the path to the side door they had planned on reaching.

A zombie gets to Harold, falling over him while the man tries to get away and Root shoots him without a single thought, letting the rest of the group know she and Shaw are back. Understanding their plan isn’t succeeding, Shaw runs to John, stabbing a few infected on her way, wanting to hear his opinion on what to do.

“This isn’t working, we should go and come back tomorrow,” he says, not even needing to hear Shaw’s question. Above them, the sky roars, unhappy and angry, remind them of another reason to leave.

Shaw nods in agreement, just as fat drops of water start falling on their heads, and turns around to tell the group they have to go. However, before she can say anything, an infected comes behind Carter. Shaw raises her gun, ready to kill the creature, but Carter moves suddenly to the left, making it impossible for her to get a clear shot. Shaw yells the woman’s name, warning her, but it’s too late. The infected’s putrefied teeth sink into Carter’s neck and rip her flesh apart, causing her to hold her neck instinctively, pressing her hands to her torn open arteries ineffectually as a scream leaves her throat.

Once he understands what has happened, John runs to her, catching her body on its way to the ground. Shaw has already killed the creature responsible for the bite and is now trying to keep the rest of the infected away with Root, while John holds Carter’s head on his lap and mutters something no one is able to hear. The thunders above them muffle the sound of Carter trying desperately to breathe for a couple of seconds and the rain mixes itself with John’s tears. He tries to stop the blood gushing out of her neck, even though he knows it’s pointless; the infection has already spread through her body and soon she’ll be just like the undead who bit her.

“D-Do it. John,” Carter manages to get out, while chocking on her own blood, “I don’t want to-” she cuts herself off, as her face loses color and she puts all her energy on keeping her eyes open.

As Shaw turns around, yelling they have to get out of there, she sees John holding Carter’s body close and kissing her forehead, before a loud bang echoes in the air, coming from his gun.


	7. Chapter 7

It was quiet outside, apart from the occasional thunders that ripped the sky open with white lines and the sound of the heavy rain hitting the ground. It was so quiet, Shaw couldn’t even hear any infected walking around the house they had found shelter in. After what had happened, Shaw and Root had leaded the team away from the Samaritan facility, barely making it out alive. The storm had been so strong back then, the wind had made it hard for them to walk and their feet sunk in mud, filling their shoes with dirt. A hail of bullets and a horde of undead had followed them as they tried to escape to the trees. Luckily, no one got shot and the evil AI’s agents hadn’t bothered to follow them into the woods, leaving them to be pursued by the hungry pack of undead. They had moved as fast as possible through the trees, the noise of the rain disorienting the creatures that run after the team. The raindrops had made it hard to see, but Shaw had managed to spot the lonely neighborhood they were now in and get the team to safety.

Once he made sure Harold was safe, John left the house without a single word, his eyes clouded with something close to both anger and sadness. Seeing him like that reminded Shaw of just how much others could be affected by feelings, could be consumed by emotions they didn’t control to the point where they’d go out to a forest filled with infected who searched for something - anything – to kill.

Shaw had only known Carter for two days, but she already got the idea that the detective was as strong as she appeared to be and that she had deserved better than to be ripped open by the dead. Although she didn’t feel anything for the woman’s death besides anger, she knew it was going to eat John up from the inside, that he’d blame himself for what happened. In the two days they had spent together, Shaw had noticed how Reese always positioned himself in front of Joss, as if telling the undead they’d have to go over him first before they could get to her. Shaw had never thought they had such a deep thing going on, but she could see in the way John’s eyes turned empty when he pulled the trigger that Carter was one of the most important things in his life. However, she was gone now and that left Shaw wondering what would happen to the man she had started to see as a partner.

Harold tried to stop John from leaving, begging him not to put himself in unnecessary danger, but Root got him to stop talking with a few words and a gentle stroke on his arm. After John left, Root and Shaw barricaded the house’s doors and covered up its windows in silence, like they were so used to do together by now. The two women moved around in the house, searching for anything that could be useful and leaving wet tracks of muddy footprints on the white tiled floor. Their clothes were soaked in rain and blood, dripping on the floor as Shaw decided to leave Harold with Root and Bear while she looked for some clothes to change into.

Unsurprisingly, Root followed her upstairs and into the small bedroom that was lit only by Shaw’s flashlight. There were no innuendos or annoying comments from the tall woman when she leaned into the doorframe this time, giving Shaw the perfect opportunity to do something she had already planned.

“Sit down and take off your shirt,” Shaw ordered coldly, not looking Root in eye as she sat down on the bed and waited for the other woman to join her. They hadn’t spoken since they had been forced to leave Carter’s body behind to be devoured by the dead. Shaw’s voice sounded deep and raspy, appearing to be foreign even to her.

“What?” Root asked, her eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and surprise. She had waited for this moment for a while now (if this was what she thought it was). However, she couldn’t get any playful words out of her mouth like she normally could, being too fixated on the image of John blowing Carter’s brains so she wouldn’t turn. She shook away the thought that it could have been Shaw, feeling _almost_ guilty she was glad it had been Joss who died and not Sameen.

“Take off your shirt and sit down, Root,” Shaw repeated, looking Root dead in the eye this time, glaring hard enough to get her moving to the bed and sitting on its edge. Shaw watched closely as Root took off her jacket and pulled her ripped apart, blood soaked sweater over her head and threw the pieces of clothing on the floor, revealing pale skin covered in stains of dark blood.

Shaw took a deep breath, taking in Root’s sharp collar bones and long, soft neck. Her eyes run over the woman’s bra, stopping for a bit at her abs where a big scar from a stab wound was painted red. The only word that could come to Shaw’s mind to describe her was _beautiful_.

Root’s gaze was focused on Shaw’s eyes, as she desperately tried to figure out what this meant, if it meant anything at all.

“Sameen,” she begins but is cut off by Shaw’s angry stare and cold hands touching her skin.

“Shut up,” Shaw hissed, taking her gaze away from Root’s body and fixating it on her deep, brown eyes. She stopped her hands from wondering any further up Root’s arm and forced herself to focus on what she had to do to make sure Root was safe.

Maybe, just maybe, she could stare at Root’s body later, feel it beneath her hands and mark it as hers as she found herself wanting to do. Shaw had to admit Root was extremely attractive and she was finding it hard to keep her hands from exploring Root’s body in ways her eyes never could, because _fuck,_ _she hadn’t been with someone in so goddamn long_. Instead of giving into her wishes, Shaw focused on how Root’s face was shadowed by loss and grief and how she should just get on with things before Root would ruin the moment by saying something that would make her back away.

Root had rarely felt this desperate. She wasn’t a person made for a lot of feelings, let alone desperation; but she had been waiting for this since she first laid eyes on Shaw, since that first time they met and Shaw showed up out of nowhere and saved her not only from the undead, but from herself. Root had fought harder than anyone to be where she was now, to bring their team together and have a chance against Samaritan. She hadn’t expected she’d come to care so much for someone along the way. Never thought she would be so desperate for Shaw to just run her fingers on her arm again and take her away from reality. Since the beginning of the infection, since she had lost the Machine, Root had been all alone, but now she was in this room, with Shaw, after losing Carter, half-naked on a bed and she just wanted to escape from all the pain and injustice in the world, even if only for a little while.

She would normally have already made a move; after all, she had been flirting with Shaw since day one for a reason. However, the feeling that they could both die tomorrow felt heavier than it usually did, like it was really sinking in for the first time. Under Shaw’s discerning gaze, Root felt utterly naked, like she was being read as an open book and studied by hungry eyes who wouldn’t allow themselves to eat.

The sound of fabric being ripped apart pulled Root away from her thoughts. Shaw had ripped away a piece of the sheets from the bed and was now holding it to the neck of her bottle, getting it wet. She grabbed Root’s wrist, her grip softer than she had intended it to be, and started cleaning Root’s hands. Shaw ran the wet and cold washcloth on Root’s knuckles, scrubbing them until the dried blood was removed and she could see Root’s skin. She kept washing Root’s hands, ignoring the surprised looks she was getting from the woman and fighting against the urge to take her eyes off her fingers and grab something other than her wrist.

In the light of the flashlight, Shaw watched Root’s unreadable expression. Sadness, confusion and excitement got mixed together in her eyes and Shaw suddenly felt like taking her lips away from her teeth and wiping the pain way from Root’s features.

When the washcloth got black and couldn’t be used anymore, Shaw ripped another big square of the blue sheets and got it wet, sliding it along Root’s shoulder and revealing a patch of white skin that indicated an old gunshot wound. Revealing the beauty of Root’s skin felt extremely intimate to Shaw, but unlike what she had thought would happen, she didn’t feel uncomfortable being this close to Root or seeing her so vulnerable.

Shaw’s hand ran through Root’s chest and neck and she was surprised by how annoyed she was at the thin layer of fabric separating her rough hand from Root’s porcelain skin. As she brought the washcloth to Root’s throat, she forced herself not to think about how it would be to choke her, focusing on the fact that beneath the dark stains of infected’s blood covering half of Root’s body, there could be a deadly superficial wound. She wasn’t able to stop, however, her mouth from going dry as Root leant her head to the side to allow her better access to her neck.

Shaw kept running the wet fabric through Root’s body in silence, not even asking her to move as she cleaned her sharp jaw. The silence left Root with a lot to think about, but for a moment she forgot all the pain in John’s eyes and the fear in Carter’s screams, allowing herself to focus only on the way Shaw moved her hands on her so gently sometimes, so brusque other times, letting her know which parts of her body she liked better.

Shaw’s hands were on Root’s abs now and Root almost found herself smiling down at her, only to find the lightness of a smile so inappropriate and remember the events of the past hours, clenching her jaw shut. Trying not to think about what had happened made her think about what was happening at the moment. That was something easier to do, although Root wasn’t used to feel so puzzled. She had always had an extremely good intuition instinct, had always been able to know what people were about to do, but while she was with Shaw, who was so unpredictable, she felt like anything could happen at any moment. It wasn’t until she saw Shaw frowning at her gunshot wound at her side, from that night with the hunters, that she understood why she had asked her to take off her shirt in the first place.

The edge of Root’s bandage was painted in dark red and Shaw immediately removed it, wanting to see if the infected’s blood had reached Root’s healing wound. She had no idea what would happen if infected’s blood reached a wound, if a person would turn or not from being in contact with the infection that way, but it made a lot of sense that it could happen. Shaw almost sighed in relief when she noticed the blood didn’t reach anywhere near the thin scab that had been growing on Root since Shaw had removed the wound’s stitches.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Root murmured in the dark, understanding now why Shaw had been washing away the blood from her skin; she had been looking for scratches beneath the layers of dried blood, she had been looking to answer that annoying voice in her head that constantly asked her if Root was okay. Root allowed a small smile to reach her lips.

“Shut up, Root,” Shaw said, her eyebrows still frowning slightly and her voice overflowed with anger due to something she wouldn’t dare to call worry, “Turn around,” she ordered, once she was sure Root wouldn’t try to convince her she was alright.

Shaw moved Root’s hair to the side, in order to have better access to her back, and was pleased to see most of it was clean. She ran her dirty fingers over the pale, fragile skin, making sure she didn’t miss any spot or failed to see something. Root shivered as Shaw’s fingertips ran along her spine, searching for cuts. It wasn’t warm inside the bedroom and with her sweater off, Root was starting to feel extremely cold. However, it wasn’t the cold but Shaw’s touch that made goose bumps starting to show on her skin.

Spotting a blood stain on the base of Root’s neck, Shaw brought the cold washcloth to the woman’s skin, almost smiling at the way the water ran down Root’s spine and caused her to shiver again.

After scrubbing away the dried blood, Shaw didn’t feel like smiling anymore. Washing Root’s neck revealed an opening on her skin, just on her spine’s left side, near Root’s hair. Flashes of an infected pulling Root’s hair when they had been fighting Samaritan appeared on Shaw’s mind, making her bite her tongue to stop herself from taking in a sharp breath. The cut was small and shallow, but it was unquestionably there, breaking Root’s skin in an L shaped scratch.

Root knew Shaw had found something the moment her hands had stilled on her back, tense and heavy. Root’s mind ran over the events of the afternoon, searching for a reason to explain the scratch Shaw had found on her neck. _It can’t be a zombie scratch, the fever would have hit me by now_ , she thought, ignoring how she had felt a bit nauseous on their way to the house and blaming that on seeing Carter die and running for her life, on an empty stomach, in the middle of a storm. Root was pretty sure when she turned around Shaw would be pointing a gun at her, so it was a surprise to find her just sitting there, looking stoically at her.

“That’s from crawling under the fence,” Root said, referring to the cut on her neck, “I’m fine, Sameen,” she added with conviction, looking Shaw in the eyes to show her she meant it.

Shaw eyed her suspiciously, thinking about whether she should trust her or not. She knew Root wouldn’t lie about something this important, not to her, at least. She would never put their team at risk by staying with them if she was infected, especially not after what had happened to Carter. Shaw ended up nodding at Root, telling herself she was relying on the woman’s word because the flesh around the cut looked healthy and not because she was starting to feel like Root was worthy of her trust, even though trust was completely overrated. She watched Root get up and examine her blood stained sweater, choosing to search for something to wear.

Before she noticed what she was doing, Shaw was up and inches away from Root’s face. “You better be okay,” she whispered, aggressively pushing her forearm against Root’s naked chest as she stumbled backwards until her back hit a wall. Shaw could feel Root’s hear beat getting quicker beneath her fingers as she looked Shaw in the eyes, letting her know she had been telling the truth and also that this new position of theirs was really igniting something inside her.

It was hard to see in the dark room, but Shaw was pretty sure Root was starting to blush as they kept staring at each other, making Shaw almost think of her as cute before she parted her lips slightly, getting ready to say something Shaw didn’t really want to hear. She knew of only two things that would keep Root silent: hitting her and flirting back at her. Shaw thought it would be a waste to beat her up in the situation they were in, so she wrapped her arm around Root’s neck and pulled her head down, pressing her lips on hers harshly before her teeth found the woman’s bottom lip and sank it in, biting it hard. Shaw backed away, pleased with the fact she had got Root to be silent, but especially content with Root’s surprised look and her sweet taste on her lips.

Root had barely had any time to register what happened before Shaw was gone. This time, not even thinking about their losses stopped Root’s lips from curling into a bright smile, as her hands rushed to her chest, where a bruise was already appearing due to the amount of pressure Shaw had used.

When Shaw saw Root again, a couple of minutes later, she was wearing a simple long sleeved shirt under her leather jacket and her bottom lip was swollen from Shaw’s bite. The image of Root naked seemed to be stuck in Shaw’s head, but she did her best to push it away as she caught Finch eyeing them oddly.

By now, it was dark out and the only light in the small living room came from Shaw’s flashlight and an old oil lamp Harold had found in the kitchen. The storm appeared to have calmed down a bit; the loud thunder of lighting wasn’t audible anymore, although Shaw could still hear the constant noise of rain hitting the roof of the house they had found shelter in. Shaw took her eyes off Root and went back to searching the med kit she had taken from the jet they had stolen. Although they had only happened twelve hours ago, the airport incidents felt so distant that Shaw would swear they had happened days ago, since so much had passed since then.

Finding the gauze and alcohol she had been looking for, Shaw lost no time pouring the clear, transparent liquid over her bicep, where she had been grazed by one of the Samaritan agent’s bullets. Instead of flinching or hissing when the alcohol hit her wound, Shaw relaxed into the couch she was sitting on, letting the familiar, painful sting that came from her arm overflow her senses momentarily.

Their supply of suture thread was basically nonexistent, so Shaw settled herself on using butterfly bandages on her wound, knowing John had gotten shot in their fight against Samaritan and he would probably need stitches more than she did when he got back.

“Mr. Reese had been gone for a long time now,” Harold said, as if reading Shaw’s thoughts. Shaw hadn’t bothered much on checking on him, but she now noticed his eyes looked sad and his pace was pale, like it had been when they had been surrounded by the undead. “He’s injured, Miss Shaw, he needs help. Perhaps you could go look for him,” he continued, looking expectantly at Root before landing his eyes back on Shaw.

“John’s a big boy, he knows how to take care of himself,” Shaw remarked, knowing she was speaking the truth. However, knowing that didn’t stop her from tugging her handgun in the waist band of her pants and getting her combat knife out of her belt, getting ready to go look for John. “Stay here,” Shaw ordered, looking intently at Root as she spoke and soothing the worry on Harold’s eyes.

“Be careful, Sameen,” Root said, reaching for Shaw’s shoulders and patting them softly. She swallowed down the “ _I don’t want to lose you too”_ that threatened to get out of her throat.

Shaw wondered how much that stupid kiss had meant to Root as she walked out the door, the woman’s smile at her eye roll still in her mind.

Although the night was a full moon, Shaw had a little bit of trouble seeing in the dark, being forced to turn on her flashlight while hoping it didn’t attract too many infected. As she entered the woods, as alert as always, Shaw focused on searching for John tracks, but it soon became clear that the storm had erased any set of footprints or any other sign that indicated what direction John took.

Bear walked besides Shaw quietly, occasionally shaking himself to get rid of the drops of water that were still falling from the sky. Shaw held the jacket John had left behind close to Bear’s nose, hoping the dog would be able to track him down. It took him a couple of minutes of sniffing the ground, but, eventually, Bear found John’s track and led Shaw through the woods enthusiastically.

After walking for a little while, Shaw heard steps ahead of her and turned off her flashlight, telling Bear to be still and quickly hiding behind a tree. Due to the rain, Shaw couldn’t listen well to the pace of the steps, being unable to tell of they belonged to a human (maybe John returning to the house they had found) or to a lonely infected that got separated from a horde and was now looking for something to eat as dinner. Thinking about dinner made Shaw’s stomach clench with hunger. It had been at least twelve hours since the team’s last meal and judging from the weakened looks on Harold and Root’s faces they had to find some food fast or they would be too weak to fight Samaritan in the following days.

The heavy footsteps got closer and closer to Shaw, until she was sure the being or person or whatever it was that had been walking in her direction was just behind her. Shaw took a deep breath as silently as possible and turned to her right, closing her hand around the person’s throat. As soon as black teeth started biting thin air, trying to get to Shaw’s flesh, she understood the creature was a zombie and not a human and swiftly proceeded to stab his skull. She took out her flashlight once the infected’s body was on the ground and pointed it at the creature. His face was torn up, pieces of flesh falling off his cheeks and revealing white bones that shone with the light, making it hard to see who the creature had been. However, his dirty blonde hair and his clothes told Shaw the infected wasn’t Reese, so she kept walking further into the woods, following Bear.

After that, it didn’t take them long to find John, sat on a fallen bench in front of a pile of infected without legs or arms. His eyes didn’t shoot up to meet Shaw’s when she reached his side, remaining locked on the several undead that growled at him furiously, desperately trying to get to him, but being unable to due to their lack of feet and hands.

“Come on, it’s time to go. Harold’s worried about you,” Shaw spoke, without any softness in her voice, knowing that sounding like she was sorry for his loss would only make him angry. She stood by his side with Bear, letting her words sink in as she admired John’s work on the infected.

When John finally got up, his eyes empty and his movements lacking purpose, they walked back to the house without a word. Shaw could almost feel John’s anger and despair in the air that separated them, could almost grasp his wish for revenge. That was something she would gladly help him getting and that she could deal with. She was glad John was one of those people who preferred silence over kind words, because if he did need comfort Shaw wasn’t sure of what she would have to offer.

As they knocked softly on the house’s door, Shaw noticed in the moonlight how John’s white sleeved shirt had turned red and wondered how much blood he had lost. She would have to ask Root to give him some blood, since she was a universal donor.

When they got in, John ignored Harold’s concern and sat on the couch as Shaw had ordered him to. She immediately told Root to hold her arm out for her and began the blood transfusion, glad she had taken the med kit from the plane. As Shaw started working on John’s shoulder to take the bullet out of him and stitch up the wound, she noticed Root getting paler due to the blood loss. Despite Shaw’s warnings of how she could end up passing out, Root gave John as much blood as he needed, refusing to let another member of their team die.

An awkward silence fell on the room when Shaw finished patching up John and Harold gave up trying to comfort his friend, who had dismissed him with bitter words and ended up falling asleep on the couch. After making sure Harold was safe with Bear in the house’s second room and assuring him that John would be alright, Shaw made her way to the room she had been with Root before.

Unsurprisingly, Root had followed her and was leaning into the doorframe, her dirty hair falling over her shoulders messily, silently asking Shaw if she wanted to pick up where they had left before Shaw had ran out looking for John. Shaw rolled her eyes at Root’s hopeful little smile, turning her back to her as she slid off her sweatshirt and put on her usual black tank top. She felt Root’s eyes following her movements, tracing the scars on her skin and studying her silhouette in the dark room.

“Are you waiting for an invitation, Root?” Shaw ended up asking, motioning for the woman to join her in bed. She internally scoffed at the way Root’s face lit up when she understood what Shaw had been suggesting with her motions.

However, when Root got under the covers with her, Shaw’s eyes were already closed, her body giving up to the tiredness she felt and her mind already drifting to sleep as she thought about what they’d do in the morning, when Root’s face would be so beautifully lit by the light of the sunrise. The last thing Shaw heard before her mind shut down was a quiet “Goodnight, Sameen,” whispered softly in her ear.

***

When Shaw wakes up, there’s already light seeping through the bedroom’s window. She can feel Root beside her and decides to close her eyes, for a moment, enjoying the warmth that comes from sleeping under layers of blankets and also from sleeping next to someone. Shaw listens closely to the sound of the wind hitting the trees’ leafs and the birds singing occasionally. For a while, she pretends that everything is normal, that in the middle of those brown and yellow trees there aren’t any creatures roaming around, looking for flesh. Shaw doesn’t usually enjoy pretending all that much, but for the past six months she has been looking over her shoulder 24/7 and while the undead don’t scare her, they certainly get her pretty tired. So, for a moment, Shaw focuses only on the way Root hold her close with an arm around her waist and her breath grazes the back of her neck. Six months ago, Shaw would have pushed her arm away without thinking twice, but it has been a long time since Shaw had been this close to someone and Root looks so peaceful while sleeping, Shaw doesn’t want to risk waking her up. Root’s hair is falling over her face messily and her mouth is slightly parted, but in that moment, Shaw could swear that not even the best handgun in the world is as pretty as Root is when she’s sleeping.

Suddenly, a dragging noise breaks the peaceful silence, pulling Shaw out of her thoughts and causing her to sit up straight and grab her handgun from under her pillow.

“Wake up, Root,” Shaw orders as she violently shakes Root’s shoulder, urgency present on her voice. Whatever made that noise wasn’t an infected or an animal, since Shaw is now able to hear different pairs of feet hitting the ground regularly, walking at the same pace, on the outside.

“What’s wrong?” Root asks once she opens her eyes, her face not showing any signs of sleepiness, being covered by a mask of weariness caused by Shaw’s hushed tones.

“Someone’s here,” Shaw whispers, already focused on defending their position as she slides out of bed, “Go to Harold, I’ll find John. If anything happens or we get separated, we’ll meet back on the clearing we landed the jet in,” Shaw commands, clicking the safety off her gun as Root quickly puts on her leather jacket and boots.

Shaw loses no time going down the stairs and into the living room, in order to warn John. Once she gets there, he’s already up with his weapon pointed at the front door. Even though they can’t hear any voices, John and Shaw are sure that whoever is outside the door will be making their way inside soon, so they position themselves to cover both the front and the back door.

Flash grenades land on the white tiled floor with a metallic noise, breaking all the windows they came through to shards. Shaw covers her eyes and ears as best as she can with her arms and waits for the loud _BANG_ that echoes in the air seconds later. Guys dressed up in black with automatic rifles come in through the doors and Shaw does her best to shoot at the ones in front of her, as her ears buzz and she finds it hard to stand straight.

John motions for them to run back to the stairs for more cover and starts following his own instructions. However, Shaw has no time to go after him and ends up knocking a dinner table to the ground and ducking behind it, hoping the thin block of wood will be able to stop the bullets shot in her direction.

“Run to me, I’ll cover you,” John shouts from behind a wall at the top of the stairs, holding his submachine gun close to his shoulder as he starts firing at what seem to be at least twelve Samaritan agents.

Shaw gets up and quickly runs over to John, turning around a couple of times to fire at the guys in black, managing to hit two in the shoulder.

“Go find a way out of there. Find Root, she’s with Harold. I’ll slow these losers down,” Shaw says, noticing that John’s anger at the Samaritan operatives his causing him to waste too much ammo.

When the wave of bullets sent in her direction comes to an end, Shaw gets up and peeks around the wall, firing non-stop until she has three of the agents closer to the stairs down on the floor. Her heart beats faster due to the adrenaline in her blood stream and that encourages her to throw one of the knives she has in her boots to the chest of a blonde haired woman, the same woman who shot her yesterday and has one of the most annoying smirks in the whole universe. Unfortunately, the woman dodges away from the knife and it ends up lodged on her shoulder instead of her heart. Shaw curses when she sees she missed, turning around to hide behind the wall again as a new hail of bullets pierces the soft blue wallpaper.

“They’re not here, Shaw,” John shouts between the gunfire, “The second room’s window is open, I think they jumped,” he breathed out, joining Shaw on the wall. He doesn’t need to tell her they have to go after them, because Shaw is already running to the room as soon as he finishes speaking.

John helps Shaw push a wardrobe in front of the door once he comes inside the room and moves to the window, not trusting the low bushes beneath them to soften their fall. He hops out nevertheless, leaving Shaw in the room, who hears his body hitting the ground. As soon as John’s out of the way, Shaw jumps after him, her feet hitting the ground roughly and sending a wave of pain up her body.

Holding their guns up high, John and Shaw look for Root and Harold’s tracks, finding a peculiar set of dog paw prints on the dirt that lead to the woods and away from the house, where the Samaritan agents have stopped looking for them.

Soon, the undead start showing up between the trees, attracted by the sound of gunfire and shouts, making it harder for the mayhem twins to distance themselves from the Samaritan search teams that must have been organized by now.

Shaw’s ankle protests as she forces it to get her moving through the trees. The pain, mixed with the post effects of having a flash grenade being blown near her, creates blind spots in her vision. A group of infected rushes to them and John and Shaw stab them, sliding their knives into the creatures’ skulls instead of shooting them as not to let the Samaritan agents know their position.

Suddenly, more infected appear on their right, forming a horde too big for John and Shaw to handle without firearms. As they tell each other to run, the sound of bullets blowing up brains echoes in the air and the infected pursuing them stop on their tracks, falling on the ground seconds after.

Behind them stands that blonde with the know-it-all grin, gun pointed at John and Shaw. Before Shaw can do anything about her, she feels something piercing the side of her neck. She raises her hand to the stinging spot and her fingers pull a red dart out of her skin.

She barely has any time to notice a guy holding a dart gun and shooting John before her knees give out underneath her and she’s falling. Her head hits the ground with a painful thud and her vision starts to blur. The blonde bitch in the black jacket hovers above her, smiling like a hunter who has just shot down her prey and Shaw’s mind goes back to the previous week, where she had been in the same situation with a completely different woman. _Where’s Root?_ is the last thought that goes through her mind, accompanied by a weird feeling on her stomach, before everything turns black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo this chapter turned out a little diffrent and longer from what I expected but I hope you still liked it   
> I'd appreciate if you told me about any suggestions you have :)


	8. Chapter 8

Shaw wakes up with a sharp breath, opening her eyes to see only the blurring outlines of a ceiling. Although her first instinct is to look around and see where she is, Shaw’s forced to close her eyes firmly as she feels her head bagging with pain, like her brain is trying to get out of her skull, pressing itself hard against her bones. With her eyelids down, blocking all the light that appears to have caused Shaw’s awful headache, she focuses on her breathing, letting her head fall on her right shoulder.

Shaw’s mind takes her to the last things she remembers: the image of a blonde woman hovering over her and smiling after a dart had punctured her skin, as her only thoughts were about Root’s safety. Acknowledging she must be in the Samaritan facility and Root has probably been caught too, Shaw battles the hammering feeling that has taken over her head and opens her eyes again, already thinking of ways to escape and of where the rest of her team must be. Shaw’s thoughts are cut short when blinding white light hits her eyes and causes a wave of nausea to creep its way through her stomach and climb up her throat. Her eyes automatically shut and she grits her teeth, refusing to throw up. Shaw has to put all her energy on keeping her stomach contents where they are and stopping herself from letting out a shaky breath.

Her mouth is dry, she finds out, after trying to lick her lips. _Whatever was in that dart was strong_ , Shaw thinks, her jaw clenching with anger at the idea of Root and John in the same situation.

With her eyes still closed, Shaw listens attentively to her surroundings, trying to determinate whether she is being watched. Her loud heartbeat and the sound of her blood flushing in her ears makes it hard for her to hear anything other than her own deep intakes of breath, but a couple of minutes later listening only to silence lead Shaw to the conclusion that she’s alone.

Once Shaw feels like the light won’t burn a whole through her and her head stops pounding so sharply, she opens her eyes carefully, shaking off a strand of hair that had fallen over her face. The corners of her eyes are still blurry from the past effects of the drugs, but soon her vision gets clear and Shaw can see as well as ever.

She’s sitting on a metallic chair, she notices. Her wrists are tightly bound to the chair’s arms with what appear to be at least four layers of duct tape. When Shaw moves her hands, she realizes the restraints are only loose enough to allow her blood to flow from her arms to her hands, since she can’t move her wrists not even an inch. As she shakes her legs, Shaw becomes aware they are also bound to the chair, leaving no space for movement. She grunts in annoyance, _these people really know what they’re doing_.

By now, the nausea she felt before has completely left her body and her headache has been reduced to an uncomfortable feeling on her head’s right side, where she had hit it on the ground after being drugged. While trying to get off the duct tape, Shaw looks around at the room she’s in.

Her chair stands over a white tiled floor and faces a white door a couple of feet away. The walls are painted white and when Shaw raises her head to take a look above her, she notices the ceiling is as well. In fact, apart from the metallic chair Shaw’s sitting on, a small metallic table on her left and the door’s lock, everything in the room is white and colorless.

The fact that the room is so devoid of color and its door doesn’t have a handle tells Shaw she is in an interrogation room. The lack of windows, which prevents her from knowing how much time has passed since she got caught, also confirms the idea that soon someone will walk in and start asking her some questions. Instead of focusing on that, Shaw keeps trying to get rid of the duct tape that holds her wrists to chair, searching for something that can help her.

After a while spent struggling against her restraints, Shaw gives up fighting against them, knowing she won’t be able to get off the chair that way. She is too weak to do so and apparently the Samaritan agents know it. The hangover, mixed with the hunger caused by going two days without eating, leaves Shaw without much strength. She has gone longer without food, but the last few days had gotten her more tired than her first week of boot camp. She closes her hands in fists with rage as she catches herself doubting her ability to fight trained agents on her state. All her willpower is put on staying awake, as she thinks of what Samaritan and that blonde bitch could be doing to her team.

Suddenly, the sound of steps outside the room pulls Shaw away from her thoughts. She sits up straighter in the chair and stares stoically at the door, waiting for the steps to come to a stop. When they do stop, Shaw hears metal scrapping on metal and then the door opens, revealing the blonde woman in a black shirt and black pants, with her hair tied up in a firm bun and a wicked smile playing on her lips. She barely gives Shaw a second look before stepping into the room.

“I see you’re finally awake,” she says, her mouth still curving in the same annoying smile as before, making Shaw suppress an eye roll.

The woman walks closer to Shaw, circling her like a hunter circles his prey, as if she’s trying to spot her weaknesses. Shaw can see beyond her smile and into the cold blue eyes that stare her fiercely, letting her know the woman will enjoy herself while making her suffer. She stops in front of the table on Shaw’s left and puts down something, before sitting on its corner. Shaw doesn’t bother looking at what the woman put on the table, knowing it probably contains all kinds of torture instruments, and stares straight ahead instead.

“I’m sure you know how this works. I’ll ask a question and you’ll answer. You can start by telling me your name,” the woman speaks. When she’s met only with Shaw’s silence her grin widens. “So, Miss Groves did really find someone qualified to help her save the human race,” she teases.

Shaw clenches her jaw at the way the woman refers to Root, so casual but definitivelyprovocative. Shaw has seen how a certain darkness seems to take hold of Root’s eyes when Harold refers to her as “Miss Groves”, so she has to bite her tongue to keep herself from showing the blonde woman how much she just wants to punch her in the face for calling Root that.

“I’d normally just do to you whatever He told me to,” the woman states, talking about Samaritan, “But since he can’t be here right now, we have a chance to really get to know each other,” she says, with that grin that seems to be glued to her face. This time, Shaw can’t hold back the snort that leaves her throat, already bored to death with this whole prep talk. _Just ask what you really want to know and get on with it_ , she thinks, focused on what the woman is wearing and searching for any concealed weapons she can get her hands on if the woman gets close.

“I’m Martine,” the woman informs, saying her own name proudly and getting up from her previous stop on the table, starting to circle Shaw’s chair again. Her heels echo on the floor’s tiles and, once she comes to a stop, Shaw can feel her standing behind her from how close she is.

“I see you’re not much of a talker. Well, I can do the talking for now,” Martine starts, her breath grazing Shaw’s neck in a way that should make her uncomfortable. “I had quite a good time watching you work the other day,” she continues, her fingers tracing random patterns on the exposed skin on Shaw’s shoulders. “It would be a waste to throw away such a talented woman,” she smirks. Shaw can practically feel her lips curling up on her neck, but still doesn’t bother to move or to look at the woman’s face. “You could join us,” Martine suggests, running her fingers along Shaw’s bicep, her cold fingertips going over the exact spot where Shaw had been grazed by one of her bullets.

“And why the hell would I do that?” Shaw asks coldly with a raspy voice due to her dry throat, speaking for the first time to Martine but still not turning her head to her.

“Because you don’t owe Root anything,” Martine whispers in her ear, pushing Shaw’s limits. Shaw wonders what made her make this talk about Root and not any other member of her team, if she gave anything away in the little time they had been together in this small room, but ends up concluding Martine had probably just seen her saving Root’s ass from the undead.

“You’re a smart girl, you know we’re going to win and you’ll die along with that sad excuse of a team, who tried to stop us and failed, unless you change sides,” she continues, moving from Shaw’s side to her front and tucking Shaw’s hair behind her ear.

Shaw’s surprised to find herself not even thinking of Martine’s offer as an option. After all, she’s right, Shaw owes nothing to Root. She could accept Martine’s offer, join team Samaritan, get strong again and then run away to live her own life, away from everyone. No matter how good that sounds to Shaw, she doesn’t even consider it for a second.

In that moment, with Martine in front of her, smiling at her like she knows her, Shaw can only feel rage burning up inside her and think of Root tied up to a chair, her face pale with exhaustion, her life slowly slipping away from her. She thinks of Reese too; his eyes on fire from looking at the people who are responsible for the love of his life being dead. Her mind also wonders to Bear; his body thrown away to the infected after being shot down, because he isn’t useful to Samaritan. Hell, she even thinks of Harold, scared and alone in the corner of a room just like the one she’s in, where they’d do to him things he would never recover from.

But most of all, she thinks of Root, who since they had met had annoyed her more than anyone on her entire life. She thinks of her, the woman that had tied her to a car, made her cross a country full of infected _twice_ and left her in the middle of a huge fight to rise the team’s chances of survival, even though she knew she would die. She thinks of Root and she feels only anger. She feels only rage, destroying everything inside her, trying to escape her body and burn this whole facility to the ground.

With that rage, all of Shaw’s tiredness is completely forgotten. She raises her head to meet Martine’s gaze and, for the first time, stares into the woman’s eyes, that despite being cold only make Shaw burn more. She keeps her expression neutral, not showing off any of the weird sensations she doesn’t dare to call feelings that are swirling around in her chest, and focusing only on the anger that seems to boil hotter at each second.

“Well, killing you will be a shame,” Martine says, her smile turning from wicked to malicious and narcissistic as she walks to the table on Shaw’s left and picks up a shining, sharp scalpel. “You seem like someone who will take a lot pain without complaining,” she starts, pulling the table closer to Shaw’s chair so she can face her while sitting on it. “I’d rather use drugs on you, but I have heard your pathetic girlfriend has a thing for needles so I’m saving those for her,” Martine smirks, causing flashes of Root clenching her jaw, in clear discomfort, as Shaw pierced her vein with a needle so John could have a blood transfusion, to appear in Shaw’s mind.

“What? Are you worried about her?” Martine mocks, smiling widely at Shaw’s closed fists.

“Root can take it,” Shaw says, looking into Martine’s eyes. She bothers to say it only because she knows it to be true. Root is strong and fiercely dedicated to a cause like Shaw has never seen someone be, not even all those terrorists she stopped before the apocalypse.

“Are you sure about that? Because it was really fun to hear her scream after just a couple of shots,” Martine smirks, failing to get a reaction out of Shaw, who just keeps looking into her eyes.

“Let’s start with an easy question, shall we? Where is the Machine?”

***

Three hours later, Shaw’s breathing heavily, her fingers curling around the chair’s arms as drops of sweat mixed with blood trickle down her cheeks. She’s forced to close her eyes once in a while to stop the blood from a gash above her eyebrow to flow into her vision. She’s practically naked by this time. Her dark clothes lay somewhere on the white tiles of the floor, having been removed to give Martine better access to all the sensitive zones in her body. Her tank top, for instance, has been discarded to the floor a long time ago, being replaced by layers of blood that had started to dry as Martine worked on a new part of her body.

The woman has repeated the same question dozens of times by now, has cut her arms, stomach and legs in agonizing places, but still hasn’t gotten an answer. Shaw takes the pain easily, sometimes even smiles when Martine pushes her blade deeper into her skin. She takes the pain and combines it with all the anger and rage she feels, focusing only on her team and on the fact that her restraints are getting a bit looser, as her sweat gets to the glue of the duct tape.

An extremely sarcastic answer earns Shaw a strong blow to the head, exactly in the same spot that was hurt from before. It brutally sends Shaw’s head to the right and she has to focus extremely hard on the white light coming from the ceiling in order not to pass out. She would probably be enjoying the pissed look on Martine’s face if it wasn’t for the fact that her head was starting to spin due to the strong blow and her blood loss.

“Well, I believe it’s time to try something a little harsher on you,” Martine says, smiling like she just had a great idea and looking at Shaw’s defiant gaze with something close to contempt. “You’ve met our pets haven’t you? Detective Carter really seemed to enjoy what they like to do with their teeth.”

Shaw clenches her jaw at the image of an infected tearing apart Carter’s neck before she could put a bullet in him. Suddenly, all the pain and weariness from the torture session leave Shaw’s mind, as Martine walks to the door and leaves.

Minutes later, before Shaw can get the duct tape that holds her wrists to the chair loose enough to escape, the door opens again. Behind it is an ugly infected, with his clothes ripped apart and half his right arm fleshless, being held by some sort of animal grabber by his neck. Whoever is holding the creature in place, goes away as quickly as they came, locking the door of the small room after the undead has gone past it.

Realizing she’s going to die if she doesn’t do something, Shaw puts all her energy on pulling her arms as hard as she can to weaken the restraints. However, her wrists are still tightly bound to the chair by the duct tape and the dead creature, smelling all of Shaw’s blood that has been spilled, starts walking slowly to her, growling.

The white light coming from above Shaw’s head causes the white bone at the end of the undead’s short arm to shine. His putrefied teeth and dirty nails get closer and closer to Shaw as she does her best to get loose. She can’t stop the flow of curses that get out of her mouth when she brings her teeth to the duct tape, trying to cut it, but it doesn’t work.

Her heart beat starts getting faster and adrenaline starts flowing in her veins as a grey hand grabs her shoulder and a black mouth sinks down to get its teeth on Shaw’s flesh. Luckily, she manages to slip her right hand out of the restraints soon enough to push the zombie away and gain herself a couple of seconds before his next attack.

Shaw’s fingers fiercely start working on freeing her hands, her short nails failing to find the edge of the duct tape on her left wrist. Somehow, she’s able to free herself just as the undead gets up from the floor and walks a short while to her. Even with both her hands free, Shaw struggles to fight the infected, ending up falling with it on top of her; her hands push him off her body before his teeth can find her neck.

Her back hurts from falling on top of the chair and her chest is rising and falling quickly, but Shaw still finds strength in herself to grab the zombie’s head and hit it on the floor until the creature’s eager hands stop searching for her flesh and its brains are spilled on the floor.

Breathing heavily, Shaw closes her eyes for a moment, trusting the stinging feeling that still comes from the cuts Martine inflicted on her to keep her awake. When her heart stops racing and the position she’s on becomes too uncomfortable, Shaw begins to free her legs from the chair and searching for something she could use as a weapon.

Martine had taken her knives and tools with her, leaving Shaw unarmed against the undead she threw at her. As she thinks about the creature lying next to her, Shaw remembers its torn arm. She gets up and crouches next to the body, touching its rotten flesh and observing the bone that pokes out of its arm.

When people turn into zombies, their bones become much weaker and that’s why stabbing their skulls, or hitting them against something like Shaw had just done, was such an easy thing to do. However, when broken, the bones can still get pretty sharp. Knowing this, Shaw rips out the infected’s bicep with her fingernails and pulls out dark flesh until she can see the bone. She does her best not to get any of the dark blood coming from the undead on her wounds as she pulls the bone out of the infected’s shoulder and arm.

Shaw puts the bone on the floor carefully and steps on one of its halves, pulling hard with both her hands on the other half. It takes her a few tries, but soon she has two pieces of bone in both her hands, their edges almost as sharp as a kitchen knife.

Shaw stands next to the small room’s white door, her hands closed around the pieces of bone as she waits for Martine to come back. A shiver runs down her spine after a couple of minutes waiting. Dressed only in her underwear, her other clothes not wearable due to how Martine took them off with her knife, Shaw finds it hard not to start sneezing as the cold air coming from the ventilation system hits her back. After not being fed for so long, her body is having a hard time keeping itself at a healthy temperature, Shaw notices. She curses Martine in her mind for making her loose so much blood and making her even weaker.

It only takes a few more minutes waiting before Shaw hears heavy steps coming from outside the door. From the way the person walks, Shaw would say it is a man and not a woman, meaning it’s not Martine who’s walking down the hallway. However, the footsteps keep approaching the door nonetheless and Shaw gets ready to fight her way out of the room.

As soon as she hears a key entering the door’s lock, Shaw throws away the less sharp piece of bone and holds the one with the sharpest edge on her right hand firmly. The door opens, revealing a Samaritan agent dressed in black with an automatic rifle pointing to the floor. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees Shaw and she punches his nose before he can react and stabs his neck with the bone, piercing his jugular. Before he can alert someone, Shaw pulls him inside the room, closes the door and covers the guy’s mouth with her hands so his gasps and deep attempts to breathe aren’t so loud. Although he fights against her, the agent loses all of his energy quickly, as life slips out of him.

Shortly after that, Shaw is standing over yet another corpse, stripping him out of his clothes and taking away his rifle and handgun. She easily puts on the guy’s shirt and pants, choosing to leave the guy’s jacket behind, since it is covered in its owner’s blood. Feeling something in the pocket of her new pants, Shaw pulls out a keychain, a keycard and a full loaded magazine for the agent’s handgun, that’s already tucked in the waistband of Shaw’s pants. _Finally something that goes my way_ , Shaw thinks, eyeing the several keys she holds in her hand before putting them back in her pocket and moving to the door.

Shaw opens the door carefully, running her eyes along what seems to be an empty corridor, as white and colorless as the room she was kept in. As far as she can see, there are three other white doors, before a big, grey one, like the ones you’d only see in hospitals, keeps Shaw from seeing further down the corridor. She exits the room quietly, her mind focused on finding Root and the rest of the team, as well as putting a bullet in Martine’s head.

_They have to be here somewhere_ , Shaw thinks, walking to the door in front of her and trying a few keys on it. When it opens, it reveals an empty room just as bare as the one Shaw had been in, only this one had a window. The grey sky makes it hard for her to determine what time it is, but after studying it for a short while, Shaw concludes it should be dark soon. She doesn’t allow herself to feel disappointed about the room being empty, focusing on the fact that there are probably dozens of rooms like this in the big Samaritan facility.

The next door she opens also leads her to a vacant room. Shaw can’t stop herself from groaning in frustration, as the anger she felt while being tortured comes back to her, leaving her jaw clenched and her mind filled with useless and annoying thoughts about Root’s wellbeing.

As she finds the right key for the last door in the short hallway, Shaw shuts down the little voice in her head that tells her maybe there will actually be someone inside this room. Surprisingly, she finds this room dark when she opens its door, the bright lamps on the ceiling having been turned off. _Sensory deprivation_ , Shaw thinks while waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. It takes her a while, but soon she’s able to recognize John’s unique silhouette. She feels a welcome wave of relief washing over her once she gets to her partner and puts down the gun she had been holding.

“John,” she whispers, shaking his shoulder softly to check if he’s awake. His clothes are still intact and there are no signs of Martine’s talented scalpels on his skin, what eases Shaw’s burning rage and gets her to unclench her jaw a little.

“Shaw? Where the hell are we?” he asks once he realizes who’s with him, pulling hard on his restraints to get himself loose.

“Somewhere in the Samaritan facility,” Shaw answers, while taking off the duct tape from his wrists and ankles. “We have to find the others. Come on,” she says, pulling John to his feet and handing him her handgun. Although he wants to ask about the cuts on Shaw’s arms and the smudges of infected’s blood on her face, John keeps his questions to himself, knowing there’s no time for explanations.

The only way out of the small hallways appears to be the big, grey door Shaw had spotted earlier. John notices there are two guards standing on the other side of the door, with their backs turned to them, and points to them, making sure Shaw sees them too, through the thin glass on the door. She nods at him, showing she saw the Samaritan agents, just as John pulls the big metallic handle of the door. Together, the mayhem twins fight the distracted agents, hitting them with precise punches and choosing to choke them so they die in silence. Rapidly, John and Shaw take the guys’ guns, keys and keycards, before walking further down the white corridor.

Contrary to the previous one, this hallway is built in an L shape and has only two doors, which are just as big as the one the pair of ex-assassins has gone through. In order to cover more ground, they agree to check both doors separately and meet back there in a couple of minutes. Holding her gun at waist level, Shaw quietly walks to the door she’s assigned to, peeking on what’s behind it through its glass.

If it wasn’t for her being a very rational person, Shaw would have walked right through the door as soon as she saw Martine; the rage she felt inside her burning higher than ever. The blonde woman walks, dictating orders, through rows of desks with computers that were mostly turned off. _Rationing fuel_ , Shaw supposes, studying the big generators in the corner of the room.

Shaw notices, much to her annoyance, that she wouldn’t be able to win if she did decide to enter the room and demand Root’s location; there are too many armed men standing next to a grey haired man, dressed in a nice suit, who she deduces to be the Greer she heard so much about.

Reluctantly, with her heart aching for some gunfire and death, Shaw walks away from the grey door and finds John, with a man dead on his feet. She raises an eyebrow and the Samaritan’s agent crushed throat and John smiles that way he does when he hurts someone who deserved it.

“There’s a big room full of Samarian agents over there,” Shaw informs quickly, already walking to the second door to check it for herself, “Is there anything over here?”

“There’s a hallway with rooms like the ones we were in, but they’re all empty,” John replies, his answer causing Shaw to frown in something she wouldn’t call concern and sigh in frustration. “There’s a stairwell at the end of it, though. Sounds promising enough.”

Shaw nods and starts walking down the hallway, by John’s side, forcing herself not to run, since that would probably be heard by the Samaritan operatives in the big room. Once they reach the stairwell, after going past white, empty rooms, John and Shaw start going down the stairs steps two by two.

Suddenly, a loud alarm starts coming from speakers on the ceiling and some sort of emergency lights get turned on, making John and Shaw see everything in a weird shade of red. _They must have found the bodies_ , Shaw thinks, cursing the loud noise for bringing back her headache, that is now torturing her, and making her want to cover her ears in order to make it stop.

Knowing they have to hurry up and get the hell out of the facility before every zombie in a two mile radius comes to them, John and Shaw run along empty hallways, full of storage rooms, before stopping as they find two different corridors going in different directions.

“Take the left one, I’ll take the right. We’ll meet back here and find a way out,” Shaw yells over the loud alarm.

After making sure John understood her, Shaw wastes no time and starts running to the right corridor. However, when she sees what’s in its end, her heart skips a beat and she’s not so thrilled about getting out of the facility anymore. At the end of the hallway, a huge door is open, allowing Shaw to see the trees from the woods outside the building and, more importantly, the dozens of infected that walk in the door’s direction, following the noise of the alarm.

Shaw closes her hands around her gun tightly, focusing on the rage that came from Martine not having the decency of giving them a fair fight. The open door is extremely close to the furthest white doors of the hallway, making it almost impossible for Shaw to get to them before the undead got to her and ripped her to pieces.

Knowing she’s probably going to die if she doesn´t get out of there fast doesn´t stop her from attracting attention to herself, pointing her rifle at the infected and starting to pull the trigger; she won’t leave Root behind to be devoured by the undead while she’s safe behind closed doors; she won’t leave Root to die, scared and alone, on a small, quiet white room that would turn red has the undead began to feed of her and would echo with her screams.

Without hesitating, Shaw runs to the last door in the hallway and shoots its lock, kicking the door out of the way so she can see what’s inside. The room is empty, it’s walls painted red with the emergency lighting. Shaw groans in frustration before turning around and shooting the zombies that are now making their way through the open door and entering the building.

By now, the effort of running has got Shaw breathing heavily, her legs burning, like they’re not capable of another step, but Shaw still manages to get to the next white door and shoot its lock. This time, when she kicks the door open, it reveals a woman sitting on a chair, with her hair fallen over her face and her white shirt sticking to her chest with sweat. Despite de loud noise of the alarm, Root is unconscious, what makes Shaw think that no matter what she does, she won’t wake up.

Shaw quickly proceeds to take the duct tape away from Root’s wrists and ankles, getting her arms and legs free from the chair. There’s no time to check if Root’s okay, since the undead have gotten close to the door of the small room, forcing Shaw to turn around and shoot them quickly. In that moment, with the dead blocking her only way out of the room and with a pale, weak and unconscious Root at her feet, Shaw swears she will kill Martine for all of this.

Focusing on how good it will feel to hit that woman’s head against a wall until her annoying smile falls from her lips, Shaw manages to put her tiredness aside and keep firing her weapon until the undead turn into a tall pile of tangled limbs.

Root is heavier than she looks, Shaw finds out seconds later, when she has her on her arms and is running for her life, aiming to find John and get back to the stairwell. She has to stop running in the middle of the hallway, being too tired to go any further. Her body desperately tries to find enough energy to get her to the end of the corridor, but the blood loss she suffered while being tortured and the fact that she’s starving really fuck her up.

It takes Shaw all she has to not drop Root on the floor and find enough motivation to start running again. Once she gets to the corner of the hallway, drops of sweat are falling of her forehead and her heart is beating so fast she swears it will get out of her chest. However, Shaw runs even faster, as she hears a loud bark over the alarm. Looking up, she spots John holding the stairwell’s door for her and shooting at the undead that she knows to be running to catch her. _We’re almost there_ , Shaw thinks as she feels a hand grabbing her shoulder and runs the last couple of feet before making it through the door. As soon as the door is closed, she feels her body collapsing and her eyes getting closed.

“Miss Shaw?” she hears Harold ask over the loud alarm and the noise of dozens of undead throwing themselves at the door, that won’t open.

Shaw forces herself to open her eyes and ignore the feeling that tells her she’s going to pass out, as she feels Bear’s tongue wetting her cheek. Slowly, supporting her body’s weight on the wall, Shaw gets up and checks Root’s pulse, before checking her own. She barely feels Root’s blood flowing in her arteries beneath her fingers, from how weak and unsteady her pulse is. Still, a small smile finds its way into Shaw’s lips as she focuses on the irregular rhythm of Root’s beating heart.

Seeing as there is no way out now, with the undead desperately trying to come into the building, John decides they should take over the facility and figure out the rest later.

As the team, now reunited, climbs up the stairs, Shaw does her best to keep herself from dropping Root’s body and falling, concentrating on getting her legs to stop shaking and moving faster.

The second they come out of the stairwell, with their guns held high, they’re forced to move back in, as a hail of bullets is sent in her way. Holding Root in her arms makes it difficult for Shaw to fire back, her arms struggling to keep the woman’s body off the ground and pointing her gun in the right direction at the same time. Luckily, John is able to handle the gunfight by himself, taking out the Samaritan agents quickly with precision.

A few seconds after John has cleared the hallway, the team is stumbling into the big room full of Samaritan agents. John’s gun send bullets to the chests of everyone except Martine, Greer and a couple off agents who were wise enough to put their guns down and surrender.

“Kill that fucking alarm,” Shaw orders, her gun pointed at Martine’s chest, causing the blonde woman’s lips to press together into a tight line and do as she was told.

“Give us the vaccine, Greer,” John commands, looking over to the old man, who laughs like he doesn’t have a gun pointed at his head and isn’t in a room full of dead Samaritan agents.

“Did the Machine tell you we have a vaccine, dear?” Greer asks, turning to Shaw and smiling like they’re old friends who just found each other after being separated. “Is that why you joined Harold’s pathetic team?”

“Enough with the talking. Give it to us,” Shaw says, repeating John’s order. She puts Root down on the floor, sitting her against a metallic desk, next to a dead guy who has a bullet in his chest, in order to hold her rifle better.

“We don’t have it, dear. Samaritan’s orders were to create a vaccine, but we were never able to do it,” he says, smiling at Harold’s perplexed look. “As servants, we failed our God.”

The whole room is silent for a while, as the idea that this whole mission had been based on getting something that didn’t exist sinks in. Without the vaccine, everything they had done and lost to get here had been for nothing. Realizing Carter had died for a lost cause, John raises his gun higher and pulls the trigger, as his insides burn as hot as the bullets he sends flying into Greer’s head and chest. The old man’s body drops on the floor, creating a pool of blood that grows by the second.

Somewhere next to Shaw, Root wakes up and calls her name, as Harold studies Greer’s body, his face getting paler due to the news the old man gave them.

“He was lying,” Shaw states, looking at Martine for confirmation, only to see her smiling brightly over her boss’ dead body.

“I’m afraid he wasn’t, I mean, if we did have a vaccine we would have vaccinated our own agents wouldn’t we?” she smirks, nodding in Root’s direction. The dead agent next to her suddenly reaches for her arm and before anyone can do anything, his teeth are biting down on Root, taking away a bit of her flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update, school is being a bitch  
> In case someone's worried about Root's life, I promise this story will have a happy ending :)


End file.
